Old News
by Maz101
Summary: Emotional pressures send Danny into a tailspin. Five-0 must deal with the ramifications, as well as a triple murder inquiry. Danny/Steve friendship & team-case fic. Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Drama. Non slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Struggling with recent emotional pressures, Danny tailspins and Five-0 must deal with the ramifications while trying to solve a triple murder.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I love them, and I love to hurt them. There, I said it! I've been frustrated with the show when it drops story-lines which have great potential for the things I enjoy, especially relating to Danno. So, here you will find angst, hurt, comfort, friendships and drama, delivered in a (non slash) Danny/Steve-centric, team-case-fic.

The story is complete, so updates should be regular, allowing for the usual tweaking and RL permitting, of course.

I hope you'll stick with me – be aware this is a 'dive in the middle, go back for the details, catch up to the present, then plow on through to the end' kind of story. (Damn! A good writer really shouldn't need to say that, but I wouldn't want to leave you floundering!)

**Spoiler alert: **Set soon after 'Pu'olo' (Rachel's 'should-have-been-Danny's' baby birth episode) - contains passing references to some events from Season 2 but I'm guessing you'll know most of it anyway.

**Disclaimer:** I can lay no claim whatsoever to the H5-0 characters. Shame!

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><p><strong>OLD NEWS<strong>

"It is not the critic that counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly..."

_Theodore Roosevelt and printed on the back of Class 27 Hell Week shirt._

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

"To infinity and beyo-o-nd..."

It was whispered low but just loud enough, and with enough of a Buzz Lightyear inflection, to make Kono smile, even though the scene that confronted them was far from funny. Black humor traditionally eased the horrors that cops saw every day in the line of duty and today she especially appreciated Danny's effort for her when she saw what it took. The eyes of the other officers around them followed him, and a few muttered to each other as he crossed the white paved terrace.

What should have been an entrancing vista of glittering blue seas and sky, exquisitely framed by green palm covered slopes and magically extended by the optical illusion of water invisibly blending into horizon, was entirely ruined by the pool of blood in the foreground - the swimming pool full of blood. A crimson tide-line lapped quietly at the very edges of the high panorama, at the join between land and sky, staining the pale stones of its framing as the sun danced on the redness, gurgling softly as if delighted by its appalling effect.

In the center, the source of all that alien color leaned low against the poolside, arms spread out, as if he was actually enjoying the carefully designed, uninterrupted view but his staring eyes saw nothing any more. The slit in his throat, though gaping like a second mouth opened wide in awe, tilted the balding head backwards unnaturally and expressed nothing beyond the glistening whiteness of tendons and bone, and an extremely violent end.

"Well, at least he went in a nice spot." Kono's own humor had developed in its cynicism since she'd joined Five-0 and, glancing across at her team mate, she felt the need to help Danny shore up his own facade.

"Yeah, all that clear horizon and he still didn't see _this _coming," Danny muttered as he moved slowly around to the far side to look down upon the victim, whose blank gaze was then upwards in his direction.

Kono watched him scanning the vicinity. His expert eyes moved carefully but she noted their usual blue seemed dulled and she couldn't tell if it was due to concentration or something else.

"You know," he mused, "I read in some hotel brochure somewhere that these sorts of pools are s'posed to have a 'floating-in-the-heavens' kind of sex appeal." He cocked an eyebrow towards her and then the victim. "He might be part way there but I don't think it's doing much for him right now."

Kono inclined her head in agreement but Danny wasn't looking for a response. The atmosphere was heavy around him and she ached to say something that might ease the tension he showed in his movements, that he'd been carrying with him for too long, but in his no nonsense approach she read professional determination and decided instead to follow his lead.

"There are security cameras at the front, I'll go check if they caught anything," she called as she turned away from the grotesque display and dodged around the arrival of the Medical Examiner.

"Don't tell me," Danny waved a hand at Max before he could speak. "He bled out."

"Yes..." The little man didn't register the sarcasm but nodded earnestly. "Exsanguination does seem likely," he agreed, as he joined the blonde detective and crouched to peer at the wound with a keen interest. "Twelve pints do go a long way, Detective." He pressed two fingers against the white flesh beneath the waterline. "I'd say, from the swelling of the body tissue, and how the outer layers of the dermis are already beginning to lift off, he's been here for at least eight hours."

Danny pursed his lips in thought. "That's a lot of blood."

"Yes, like I said, the average male human body carries up to twelve pints of blood...although it can be less, sometimes ten... The temperature of the water and also of the day would keep it thin and pumping out, even after the initial incision was ma..."

"No," Danny interrupted. "I mean, that's _still_ a lot of blood." He nodded at the scene. "Now, see, I don't have a pool myself, I barely have a basin, but wouldn't you think an efficient filtration system should take care of that kind of stuff, in that kind of time?"

"Yes, it's true, Detective. In fact, an infinity pool like this one generally has two different pumps to facilitate the recirculation of the water and a good filtration system can indeed clean a pool of this size, which probably holds arou..."

"You hear that?" Danny interrupted again and Max looked up at him, a puzzled little line appearing in his brow.

"I don't hear anything."

"Exactly," Danny confirmed. "No mechanism, no whirring, no glugging, no sloshing...no two pumps. The system's been switched off." They'd have to be sure to check there for prints..._maybe this time..._He looked back at the impressive house where the whole of the back wall opened onto the terrace with sliding glass doors. Graceful curving steps led to what should have been a real life diorama of luxury. On another day, without the gore, this would have been a beautiful setting.

"Someone wanted this lovely little tableau to been seen just like this. They were sending a message." He looked down again, and now addressed the bloated dead body directly. "Don't get in too deep."

"No footage." Kono called to him and he looked up as she stepped back into the open doorway. "Cameras disabled, wires cut. Again."

So, a professional job, just like the others.

Danny nodded to Max and his assistants that they could lift the corpse, with its flopping, soap-white limbs, onto a stretcher. Michael Trent's head fell further back and Danny grimaced, fearing for one horrible moment that it might fall right off, since only a narrow tether of flesh had survived the brutal slashing, but the ME quickly reached out to support it as the gurney was covered and wheeled away.

Danny surveyed the bloody water once more. The pool would have to be drained but he really didn't expect to find a weapon or further clues in the red depths. This killer was good. He pulled out his cell and waited for his partner to answer.

"Got another one, man ...This one's carved and marinated."

Danny heard Steve's sigh and imagined his partner pacing and running a hand through his hair in frustration. This latest murder was number three in an, as yet, unexplained spree.

"Great." Steve sounded almost as weary as Danny felt. They were all running on reserves as the body count grew and the connection remained so damned elusive. "You'd better get back here Danny." There was a heavy pause on the line. "We've got another problem." Danny drew a breath..._Of course, there would be something else...always is..._

"Perfect!" he muttered to himself but didn't bother to ask the details, they'd be waiting for him back at headquarters. Turning again to the view for the final time, Danny wondered if maybe it wasn't only their murder victim who was failing to see all that was in store.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

The Five-0 screens were beginning to look cluttered as Chin expertly shuffled photos and reports and maps into a computerized montage. Danny watched and thought back to a time in his career when it was still all just drawing pins stuck into hard copies, which became more and more dog-eared as investigations went on... _Back in Jersey ...back before...Shit!.._.Now, the pristine images of murder victims were displayed in shared high definition as, with a deft flick, they were each sorted into a space of their own and the team gathered around the central desk.

"Kono, what have we got on this guy, Michael Trent?" Steve wasted no time on preliminaries.

"Runs a property business, specializes in commercial rental space, but apparently he lives beyond his means. That home, the Ferrari in the driveway, the yacht in the marina...none of that comes from his declared business income, but no debts that we've found." She delivered the information in the same succinct manner and gestured at the large crate that she and Danny had collected from the house. "Still have to go through the paperwork and his hard drive."

"No obvious link to either Keku or Melahua," Chin chipped in, indicating the photos of the weeks two other murder victims. "At least, not yet...but it's _got_ to be connected." They were all thinking the same.

The team studied the pictures of the dead men. One lay splayed out on the driveway of his palatial apartment block, a neat bullet hole dead center of his dead eyes, his brain matter spread around his head like the shadow of an extravagant Easter bonnet. The other was sprawled across a huge circular bed on top of rumpled black silk sheets, a clear thin line encircled his neck where a garrotte had been expertly used. In the gruesome gallery, Trent's recently added death scene was certainly the most dramatic but all the murders shared a certain proficiency.

"It's like an assassin's showcase," Danny said, flicking a look at his partner. Steve's dark eyes were studying the MO expertly. He felt Danny's stare and glanced up. "It's your kind of thing."

Steve frowned but didn't deny the truth of the suggestion. He certainly recognized the work of a trained killer, or killers, but he and his team were still struggling to establish suspects or motives beyond the vague possibility of drug peddlers' greed. The first two victims were known in local clubs as occasional recreational users but neither had any record for actually dealing and there was no evidence they even knew each other. It was still only a very tenuous connection.

"You two, keep at it. Add this guy into the mix. They've got to have shared more than a certain style of life _and_ death." He addressed Kono and Chin and then turned back to the other screen. "See what you can get from Trent's computer records... _Any_ links he might have had with either one, business or personal...they have to have had _something_ in common."

The cousins nodded but there was a slight hesitation before they turned away, aware that Danny had not been assigned and that Steve seemed more than usually tense, braced for trouble. With a barely perceptible jerk of his head, Chin chivvied Kono to move and the two men were left alone.

Steve turned and leaned back against the desk and, after a moment of silence, wearily addressed his partner.

"Danny, I'm sorry. I've got to pull you from this investigation." He saw his friend's brow draw down in disbelief and quickly plowed on, shifting to tap at the table. "We've got another job...a missing person."

The pictures of the dead men moved sideways to be replaced in the central screen by that of a skinny, gawky, pale young man. Wire rimmed glasses and a shock of lank, dark hair, hanging from an old-fashioned side parting, gave him an overall impression of geekiness. The photo was from a New York University student ID card.

"Jeffrey Trewl. He went missing from his apartment in New York ten days ago. His family think he may turn up here..."

"Why?"

"Because he spent most of his childhood here..."

"No... Not, why here? Why us? Why are _we_ looking for him?"

Danny stood square and rigid with his arms crossed over his chest as he stared, not at the picture but at Steve, who could practically feel the waves of animosity beginning to roll off his partner. He'd always known this was going to be a hard sell.

"I mean, I'm sure he's a nice guy and all..." Danny reached out and sharply tapped the named document on the table desk-top, scanning over it quickly when it opened even as he went on.

"A good student...no wait, a _top_ student...but he's over eighteen...In fact," he continued his overly dramatic perusal, running his finger down the details. "Ah yes, look, he's twenty-two...old enough to leave home, leave college, leave it all behind to seek out his fortune elsewhere, if that's what he wanted to do...Get wasted, get laid, get lost. He's not a child, Steve. There's nothing in here to suggest foul play. So, I say again, why us? Or more importantly, why _me_?"

Steve sighed. In the tense silence that hung in lieu of an immediate answer, Danny's whole demeanor shouted 'difficult'..._Nothing new there, _Steve noted. His partner was often stroppy, usually cantankerous and always vociferous but, considering his recent state of mind, he could see this issue building towards epic proportions if not handled right.

"It's come from the Governor. Jeffrey Trewl's father is a friend of the Governor..."

"A fund raiser, you mean?"

"He was at Harvard with him. He's a supporter and a friend, yes. And as such, the Governor wants us..."

"Wants us to drop..."

"We're not dropping anything..."

"...drop a triple murder inquiry, involving what is very likely to be a professional hit man, or even a hit squad, to go schlepping around on the off chance that this guy _might_ just turn up back where he once spent a few summers?"

"He just wants us to pursue all possible leads..."

"And he wants _me_ on this does he?" Danny snapped. "The _Haole_. Not the Honolulu Police Department? Not a _local_ officer who probably knows all the little hideaways mentioned in here," Danny gestured at the file, "like the back of his hand? Not Chin or Kono, or someone with all that local knowledge that I'm always accused of lacking, that's so recently been highlighted so well...he wants _me_ on this?"

Steve held Danny's aggravated glare for a long moment.

"No, I do."

Danny stepped back as though he'd been slapped in the face.

"You want me off the murders?" His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head incredulously. "And why's that Steven?"

"Look, Da...

"A guy goes missing six thousand miles away and you _really_ think in the week of the Governor's budget announcements, _this_ is the best use of the state's money... to send me on a wild goose chase, while some of its apparently good citizens are getting wasted with the worrying regularity of one a day?" He gestured widely with his hands in an '_isn't it the most obvious thing in the world'_ kind of way. "See, I would have thought you'd need all of us on this... You know, all hands on deck, to use one of your preferred naval phrases." Steve noted his partner's rare attribution of his correct service but Danny was clearly not in the mood to be interrupted as his anger continued to flow.

"Is is because you think I can't handle it? That I might screw it up? You think I've really lost it this time?" His anger turned into a snarl of a smile. "Oh, I can see through this bullshit, alright. Do you think I don't know what this is all about?"

Steve tried not to look away from the tirade but flinched slightly with discomfort. He really hated what he was having to do.

"This is about getting me out the way for a couple of days until the heat dies down. 'Til the fingers stop pointing at Five-0...At me... What's the matter, the flak getting a little too close for you is it, Steve?"

Danny's last question came out as snide. In fact, there was none of the usual humor in his tone now and Steve could see an aggression in his taught posture that was normally reserved only for perps and prisoners.

Steve was well used to being the target of Danny's characteristic verbal tirades, the regular receptor of his oh-so many strongly held opinions. He could take them. In fact, more often than not, he enjoyed them, often mischievously and knowingly prompting them, just to see Danny blow. But this anger? He'd never felt it directed his way before and it served only to strengthen his resolve. Danny needed a break from recent pressures and he was going to get it whether he liked it or not.

"I don't have a choice, man. The Governor wants this looked into, wants Five-0 to be the ones who do it. Look," he raised placating hands, "I agree, it's unlikely to go anywhere, but the guy's Hawaiian connections have got to be checked out." He hated the incredulous look Danny was giving him and their friendship was too strong to hold up the ruse any longer. He sighed. "And yes, _okay_, it wouldn't be a bad idea if you kept a low profile for a couple of days."

"Ha!" Danny stabbed the air triumphantly with a finger. "So says the guy whose controversial column inches are only outnumbered by his weekly tally of procedural violations."

Danny moved quickly to a side desk and lifted up a folded newspaper from a messy pile that lay there, snapping its front page straight within inches of Steve's face. "What's the matter Steve, the spotlight a little too bright for you? Or is it the Governor who's jealous of the coverage?"

Steve snatched away the paper, with its glaring headline and large photo. "I think we could all do without it don't you?" he replied and stared his partner down.

The pair remained silent, glaring at each other, until Danny suddenly blew out a long breath and appeared to simply deflate before Steve's eyes. It was a pattern he'd seen too often recently, his friend's natural volatility sending him over the edge quicker and deeper than ever before. Steve watched as he dipped his head and the fight just went out of him.

"Okay," he said, without looking up. "Okay. Missing nerd it is."

"Look...Danny...It's going to be a big week for Hawaii. The Governor is holding his budgetry press conference tomorrow, getting it out the way before Airforce One touches down." Steve gestured with the crumpled newspaper in his hand. "It'll be the usual stuff, but the murders are bound to come up and there are going to be questions on this too, you know it. It's a distraction, it's affecting the current investigation, affecting witnesses and HPD's co-operation. The press won't let it go. It would just be better if you were ...elsewhere."

His reasoning sounded lame even to his own ears, just this side of pleading, but Steve met Danny's blue gaze when he finally lifted his head and saw a grudging, tired understanding there. "Just...check this disappearance out for me...forty eight hours, tops."

Danny managed a tight grin at that. They both understood the pressure to be politic at times, despite their best professional instincts. Danny recognized the irony that it was usually Steve who found it the most difficult to rein in his actions but, since his own rather too public meltdown four days ago, he knew he'd been wound way too tight. If he let his guard down, allowed a crack in his mask, he still sometimes found it hard to breath, hard to see beyond the image that was still seared into his brain. He was exhausted by it and if he couldn't admit it to Steve, who knew the worst of it, then who?

He straightened up and headed for his office but hesitated, then turned and gestured once again at the image of the body in the pool, then at the other murder victims.

"Gotta ask yourself though, Steve, why these victims are displayed like this...who's it for?" His voice was back to normal, reasonable and thoughtful. The voice of the experienced investigator. "I'd say someone is delivering a message and what's more, I'd lay odds that same someone will be after the intended recipient next."

Steve nodded a silent agreement as he watched his partner walk away..._We have to find that damned_ _connection_...Angrily, he threw the newspaper aside. It fell flat to display its bold front page to a now empty room.

"**Gung-Ho Five-0" **

The headline stood tall above a large color picture, taken from a distance on a cellphone. It was a grainy shot but still clear enough to see Detective Danny Williams, windswept hair blown madly sideways, chest thrust out in an aggressive challenge, his arms held open and wide in defiant invitation. In the foreground, the rear view of an unidentifiable gunman holding an automatic weapon, aimed closely and directly at Danny's forehead.

It was a disturbingly violent image, one that held the holy grail for all newsmen - the startling impact of 'what the hell happened next?' For any who saw it, however, perhaps the most alarming aspect of the shot was not just the split-second capturing of an unfolding and potentially deadly drama, but the look in the detective's eyes in the face of imminent death. It was not fear, or bravery. It was welcoming.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **There's only so much a man can take before the walls he builds will crack. All it needs is a final, unexpected blow.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**Four days ago.**

"Tell me again, exactly, what are we doing here?"

Steve sighed. This conversation had already gone around several times, in several different ways, but heat and boredom was wearing him down and he couldn't face a confrontation. "Jeez Danny...Fifteen thousand dollars in counterfeit currency..."

"...that has _already_ been recovered..."

"...that was seized in a joint operation..."

"...which did not include us...to which we were not invited...which was kept strictly on the low down..."

"...by customs officials, officers of the United States Treasury Department, and the Secret Service..."

"Basically the world and his wife..."

"...I think they expected a bigger haul, had some bad intel..."

"...but _not_ us ...Oh no, not the task force especially set up with the explicit purpose to tackle serious crime in the State of Hawaii..."

"...was discovered to have been produced, at least in part, here." Steve pointed to the dilapidated motel across the road. "In fact, in there."

"And _now_ they call us in! Now that their secret-squirrel, hush-hush, don't-tell-the-locals-what's-going-on, investigation is over. After they've arrested the planners, the printers and the distributors, _now_ they want us to get involved and pick up the dregs." Danny's voice was rising higher and getting faster. "Unbelievable!" He shifted in his seat to look over at Steve who calmly kept his eyes trained on the building.

"They just wanted a jolly here in the sun, is what they wanted." Danny halted briefly to irritatedly wipe his brow.

The sun's heat was building and on stake-out the engine running would be a give away, so there was no air conditioning. They were all wilting but Danny's indignation remained just as powerful. Steve could understand it too. He knew most of his friend's current agitation actually came from the fact he was missing time with his daughter, time that was all the more precious to him recently.

"All that manpower and did you actually _see_ any of that currency, Steve? Did you? 'Cause I did. I went and took a look at it in HQ and it literally isn't worth the paper it's printed on. I mean it, I've seen some fake bills in my time but these were the worst. Ever! Believe me, even a blind freakin' beggar from deepest Uzbekistan, who'd never even seen an American dollar in his life and needed the money to save his dying wife, would have known they weren't real and given them back."

Steve smirked at the image and at the dramatic re-enactment Danny was performing with his hands.

"Oh, you may find that funny, my friend, but let me ask you this, Steven...do you know how much counterfeit money there actually is in circulation in this country at this very moment?

"Around sixty four million dollars at last count," Chin's voice spoke into their earpieces.

"Oh, don't interrupt him, Cuz," Kono's voice followed and they could hear her amusement and imagine her grin. "Danny's on a roll."

Steve glanced along the street to their second vehicle, where the rest of his team were also keeping watch.

Danny hardly broke stride. "My point is, when we're talking in the region of sixty four million dollars, does a measly fifteen thousand dollars worth of the world's crappiest fake money since Monopoly was invented, which wouldn't convince _anyone,_ does that really justify us sitting here for the best part of four hours, hoping, on the off-chance, to pick up the absolute lowliest members of the penny ante crew that produced it." He slammed a hand against the dashboard. "I mean, where's the Secret Service now, huh?"

After his lengthy rant, his final demand hung in the dead air until Steve finally cracked with a huff of laughter too long suppressed. He pulled his eyes away from the building and grinned broadly over his shoulder at his partner.

"Aww, Danno, you know you love to spend time with me!"

"Don't you start up with that Danno cra..."

"Hey, guys...we've got movement." Chin's sharp alert cut into the exchange and immediately the whole team's attention was concentrated on the building's dreary facade.

A man in his late twenties had just rounded the corner of the car park out front and was heading towards the last room on the ground floor. Dressed in jeans, a red floral Hawaiian shirt and sneakers, he glanced around anxiously, fidgeting nervously with his buttons and his hair, before rapping on the door.

"Tweaker," Danny noted quietly. Even from their distance, the tell-tale twitches and tics were a give-away.

The door quickly opened to admit him and as soon as he stepped inside, Steve gave his order. _Finally!..._ The last two members of a gang that his unit had not investigated, responsible for a mildly pathetic crime they had not been notified of, were together..._Time to wrap this up!_

"Chin, Kono, take the fire door, just as we planned. Danny and I are in the front."

The four left their cars in the same instant and sprinted towards the building, weapons in hand. Chin and Kono quickly positioned themselves at the fire exit at one end, as Steve and Danny settled themselves either side of the peeling door. Their eyes met in a practiced and easy silent communication, as Steve raised a fist. His thunderous hammering was the background to his bellowed instruction.

"This is Five-0! Open the door!"

There was a shout, a loud thump and the sound of frantic movement from within. Steve glanced across to Danny, who gave a resigned "_oh-go-on-then_" nod, then kicked in the door, just in time to see their two suspects disappearing through a hole in the side of the room. Not a door, a hole. The wall had been inexpertly knocked through to the adjoining room which, even at a brief glance, clearly held a battery of home computers.

Steve and Danny leapt across the twin beds in their path in time to see their targets fleeing through yet another jagged opening. The whole of the ground floor of the decrepit building was now revealed to be a honeycomb of exits ..._ No_ _wonder we couldn't trace the manager,_ Danny realized. It meant the two targets would not be taking the escape route that Five-0 had anticipated.

"They're heading out the front – Three rooms down," Steve shouted to update Chin and Kono who were waiting in completely the wrong place.

Danny turned and headed back the way they'd come, flying out the door just as Steve popped out further down the building.

"Shit!"

The flowery shirt of the man they'd seen entering was now flapping wildly as he raced away towards the waterfront. He was followed closely by a second man, broadly built and moving fast on slightly bowed legs.

Danny and Steve took off in pursuit, dodging two oncoming vehicles which braked and hooted as they held up warning hands without slowing down. Shoulder to shoulder, they swung into an alleyway and raced down its length, bursting out the other end in time to see their targets dashing through gates into a private harbor-side business park, stacked high with row upon row of containers.

Steve barely hesitated in his rapid assessment. Turning back to where Chin and Kono were now approaching, he waved them to the left and, as they adjusted their course to move down a parallel opening, he and Danny ran on, hoping their quarry would be caught in a classic military-style pincer manoeuvre. The team knew the men would soon come to the dead-end of the water that lay ahead of them.

The business park was built on a wharf at the end of a series of jetties sticking out into the sea like fingers grasping at the blueness. The one that lay ahead of them would be the pinky finger, the last one, stuck onto the end of a long tourist strip. With its light industrial units, this was an area of commerce and therefore fairly quiet on a Saturday. The next jetty alongside however was positively heaving with people.

From across the narrow stretch of water, Steve and Danny could hear the strains of local music and registered the movement of hundreds of visitors and locals, mixing happily together at the annual Pukana la Festival. Chasing their suspects, however, they had no time to appreciate the dancers or displays. Instead they pressed on at a jog, instinctively covering each other, halting and checking, as they came to each new stack of containers.

Both men were breathing heavily and felt trickles of sweat under their vests as they eventually came to the last of a row of stacked crates and found themselves stepping out into a wide, open area. It was deserted.

"Where the hell did they go?" Steve growled.

He and Danny circled slowly, back to back with their guns raised, poised and alert to any threat. They turned to see Kono and Chin jogging to meet them with the same puzzled looks.

"The didn't pass us," Chin assured them. "They have to still be here."

The team walked slowly towards the waters edge, checking that the men hadn't managed to escape by boat, but the quayside was clear and they all stood back, getting their breath back and gazing around them, scouring the area. Gradually their eyes were drawn now to the busy jollity of the festival going on just fifty meters away.

"Hey, Danny!" Kono called out suddenly, her hand raised against the reflection of the sun's bright glare and the sparkling waves. "Isn't that Gracie over there?"

In the quiet tension it was an incongruously welcome note of normality and everyone turned immediately to where she pointed.

Danny felt his world slam to a halt.

It was a beautiful scene, a beautiful setting, a beautiful family.

Against the bright colors of a perfect Hawaiian backdrop, the young girl was running, laughing, up the opposite boardwalk. A dazzling, dancing sunbeam, in a bright yellow dress. Her dark hair was loose and flying behind her, her arms outstretched. Taking a last leap, she was scooped up into a man's waiting arms and swung around and around, up and down, giggling and shrieking, before being placed down next to a blue buggy. Peeking inside, the delight on the girl's bright face shone out as she gazed up at her laughing mother. Two sets of arms wrapped around her and two mouths kissed each of her flushed cheeks. Then the three of them set off again with the beautiful girl at their center, skipping and chattering along and pushing the buggy with a pride that glowed as brightly as the smiles reflected in the adoring looks of the adults who walked a little behind her, relaxed, arm in arm and so, so happy.

The Hawaiian Tourist Board would have killed for such a shot... _**"The Perfect Family".**_ Danny couldn't breath.

Kono gasped and turned to him, wishing she hadn't witnessed the scene, that she hadn't said anything, that she wasn't now close enough to see the look of frozen anguish that held Danny rigid.

She looked up at Steve and saw him wince. He lifted a hand, first up to his own mouth then out towards his partner, registering his pain and knowing immediately the impact that this scene would have upon him, wanting to help. He pulled back though without touching him, for once, unsure.

The team were immobilized by their shared horror of being present at such an intimately devastating moment for their friend.

Danny stared across the water, unseen by his daughter, unnoticed by his former wife and her husband, utterly unknown to their newborn baby.

With no moment to prepare himself, to raise his defenses, it hit him like a physical blow. A boxer who'd let his guard down. His chest hurt with the vision. His head felt like it might explode with the image and he had to clench his jaw hard against a flood of saliva that threatened either nausea or a howl of grief.

His daughter; his love; his hopes. But it wasn't _his_ family.

Steve, Chin and Kono all turned towards him, their eyes flicking rapidly between themselves and back to their friend, mentally groping for an appropriate response, something to help him to cope, when a slight sound behind them sent them spinning instead to identify its source.

First there came footsteps, then a thud and a soft curse and suddenly the red flowery shirt appeared right behind them. He seemed as surprised as they were and stopped abruptly. His partner, running hard while looking backwards at the way they'd come, plowed right into the back of him. In other circumstances, his rebounding fall might have been comical, something worthy of Chaplin in the days of silent movies, but Red Shirt wasn't waiting to help him and sprinted away. Five-0 had to move.

Chin and Kono leapt to secure the man on the ground as Steve set off after the runner.

"Danny!" he shouted at his partner, slapping him on the back as he flew past.

It broke the spell that held him, and Danny whirled around too, drawing what felt like his first ever breath. Moving on muscle memory alone, his cop instincts and training took over where the natural functions of his body seemed to have ceased and he found himself sprinting forwards. Each step though drilled what he'd witnessed into his brain.

_Not yours._

_Not yours._

_Gone._

Seeing Steve dive down between two towering piles of crates Danny ducked right, then left, zig-zagging between a parked van and a storage shed, then a garbage skip and a pile of packaging. It was all just a blur to him. Splinters of that damned image spiked with every blink of his eyes and his blood pounded in time with the torture of it. As he careered around the side of the building, he had no real idea of what he was doing or where he was going.

"Stop!"

The voice surprised him enough to do just that.

"Stop right there, or I'll kill him."

The brightness of the floral shirt was hidden behind the bulk of a delivery driver, held in place by a tight arm around his flabby neck and the threat of a gun resting against the side of his wobbling cheek. The man looked utterly terrified and already near to tears. His captor on the other hand looked manic and dangerous now that he was cornered, pressing against the side of a van with its rear doors still open and boxes strewn about where the driver had been forced to drop them.

Danny brought his gun up as he labored to take it all in.

_Not yours...Gone...Gun? Hostage?_...

His thoughts seemed on a spin cycle. It seemed to be happening in another dimension as though there'd been some kind of time slip and he'd fallen through the cracks. His own breath sounded loud in his ears, his chest was heaving, but he felt numb.

"Let him go." Instinct took over but even his voice didn't sound like his own. He stepped forward, his Sig leveled straight at the gunman.

Two pairs of eyes widened in fear as Danny took another step.

"Please...no...please...please..." The captive was begging and whimpering, a tiny sound from such a large man but his captor sounded just as desperate when he shouted at the blonde detective, still approaching them so relentlessly and with a strangely hard and detached look on his face.

"S-Stop! I-I said, stop..." Pulling his hostage backwards with him, he hit a crate and nearly stumbled. Glancing desperately around he glimpsed Steve, now also moving towards him from the side but still some distance away. But it was the blond who drew his drugs-glazed eyes back again as he kept on coming, a dead look of absolute determination on his face.

Terrified, he suddenly pushed the hostage away from him and directed his gun at Danny instead. The driver fell to his knees with a squeak of fear and scurried away sideways, trying desperately to make his hefty bulk look small, like an obese mouse in overalls.

With barely four feet between them Danny finally halted his progress.

Between nearby crates, Steve braced with feet apart, aim perfect but unable to take a shot now that Danny and the gunman were so close. He wouldn't miss but, even if he was dead, neither would the tweaker.

"So, what? What? You want to kill a cop now?"

Steve barely recognized his friend's voice. He teased him about his 'tone' but this was something he couldn't categorize. Low and dangerous, there was something terrible in Danny's dull inflection. "Well, why not? You're clearly dumb enough."

Danny was moving forward again relentlessly. Three feet. Two feet. Steve hissed his disbelief at what was unfolding in front of him.

"Wouldn't that just be the perfect addition to your criminal resume."

Danny Williams, normally the voice of reason when it came to police procedure, the brakes on Steve's own juggernaut tendencies, was now niggling and pushing when he should be calming and controlling..._What the hell, Danny? Stop!_...

Steve inched forwards as Danny pressed on, antagonizing and patronizing.

"Sounds better than 'useless money forger,' I s'pose...I mean, you people never heard of watermarks? Or color shifting ink? How 'bout offset printing?"

"W-what?...S-stop..." The gunman stammered, his brain struggling to make sense of this cop with his weird far-away look. "Hold it right there, or y-you're dead." His gun hand was shaking, the other held up in a vain effort to stop Danny's progress as his eyes darted around, looking for a way out of a situation that was going so badly wrong.

"We've got you on the counterfeiting...Huh, all fifteen grand's worth," Danny spat out dismissively. "So what? Now you think you'll look tougher in jail if you have 'cop killer' next to your name... is that it?"

Danny's eyes bored into the pin prick pupils of the face ahead of him but it was like looking at a TV drama from outside a window – he felt oddly separated and distant even though his vision remained so focused. _Not yours...not yours...gone..._All the anger and self loathing he felt building inside him was directed on the idiot before him, an idiot who could end it.

To the gunman, the effect of the intensity of those blue eyes reflecting some awful lack of emotion, was more frightening than the gun that the cop held.

"I'll k-kill you..."

Suddenly, Danny's gun dropped. He took his last step and jerked his hands out to hold his arms to the side, Sig pointing at the ground, chest out, chin jutting, as a quick gust of wind hit them from the side.

"Well, go on then...Do it!"

Danny heard himself say it. He knew it was crazy. Dangerous. The swirling in his head and his gut had melded and folded and come out with defiant words spat out as a coping mechanism, something that would stop the pain.

Steve's trigger finger twitched ..._Danny! What the hell?..._he couldn't believe what he was seeing, but he still couldn't risk a move..._Too close...Too damned close..._

"**Do it!**"

The gunman flinched at the repeated order, at the look on the detective's face. A moment of clarity in his drug addled senses sent a screaming message to the survival neurons in his brain and his arms flew up skywards.

"Okay! Okay! I'm done …O-okay!"

Steve was on him in an instant, plucking the gun from his fingers and pushing him down hard onto his knees to cuff him. From behind his prisoner, he looked up incredulously at Danny who was yet to move.

Chin stepped up as well, his normally impassive expression reflecting disbelief and concern and Steve knew he'd been a witness to the drama too. As he walked the guy away, Red Shirt shouted back.

"You're out your head, man...guy's crazy...crazy!"

It was now Steve and Danny who were left facing each other.

"What the hell was that?" Steve's voice was harsh, his vocal cords strangled by the fear of what might have happened. "What did you think you were doing?"

Danny holstered his Sig but said nothing.

"Danny!"

Danny's mouth formed a tight lipless line but he remained silent.

"What were you thinking? The guy is clearly baked, Danny. He could barely see straight and you _dare _him to kill you ..."

"Got the job done, didn't it?" Danny barked back.

"It was stupid! Christ! You could have been killed."

Steve stepped towards his friend but Danny shied away. Steve saw the twitch of muscle in his jaw line as he fought to school his features, battling the mixture of emotions that still showed through the blue of his eyes. He knew only too well what this was about and it wasn't the job.

"Look... Danny..." he began again, pulling in his own anger in an effort to connect but Danny was holding his hands up now, palms out, a barrier to the conversation and to the pain that still sang in the tightness of his muscles, and in his brain. The tsunami of adrenaline that had carried and dumped him here was receding, leaving behind a horrible clarity. He scrabbled to make sense of it, to put a spin on it that didn't have him looking like he was totally out of control.

"No, Steve, _you_ look..." he took a breath, deliberately forcing his lungs to accept it, needing the oxygen for the strength to go on, to make excuses for what he was only now really realizing he had done.

"Okay, I took a chance. A stupid chance. But he wasn't a killer...I knew he wouldn't do it...I just had to get his attention to make him realize it." He forced a grin that hurt with the effort. "Besides I knew you would take him down..."

Steve shook his head and stepped further into Danny's space. He wanted to smack him.

"I couldn't risk taking the shot. You were too close, you were too..." _Crazy?Blinded? Intent on getting yourself killed? _Steve stopped himself before he voiced his fears.

"Well, I guess your ridiculous SEAL ways are finally rubbing off on me, huh?" Danny desperately tried for humor, tried to turn it around, but it was unconvincing to both of them and fell flat. He looked into Steve's face, saw the haunted look of fear beneath the anger, and for a second allowed his facade to drop.

"It's okay, man... I'm still alive...I'm still here."

Steve watched his partner turn and walk away and ached with the certain knowledge that, in that instant, his friend spoke not with defiance but regret.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Steve stood with his feet planted apart and his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his cargos. The slowly dipping sun was still warm on his face as he squinted against its orange glow and focused on a distant figure at the waters edge.

Running hard, Danny was pushing himself as though he had a race tape in target. His pounding progress had brought him along the length of the beach and, as he drew closer, Steve could make out the sheen of sweat and the darkly saturated material of his vest clinging to muscles pumped by exertion. Finally, he slowed but there was no gradual warm down as, instead, Danny hauled himself to a stop in just a few paces.

Steve could tell his partner hadn't seen him yet, that his vision was fixed a million miles away, and he prepared to make his move but, still blowing hard, Danny turned next to the waves. Quickly loosening his shoes he was kicking them off even as he reached back and pulled at his shirt with a desperation that looked like he would prefer to be ripping off his own skin, like he was trying to shed himself. The action caused Steve to hesitate. He watched as Danny launched himself into the sea and instantly began plowing through the waves.

Despite all his protestations when they'd first met, and his grumpiness over the sea since, Steve knew Danny could swim and swim well. He'd seen him in the water with Grace many times, even been welcomed into the pair's shared delight when messing about in the bay at the back of Steve's own home and he'd loved that inclusion. Amidst the dunkings and the splashings and the underwater wrestling he'd seen Danny's love and devotion to his daughter and shared in the fun of their family, had been allowed to become a part of it. He also knew his partner was taking surfing lessons with Kono, and despite apparently having been sworn to secrecy, she had told him he was actually getting to be pretty good. But _this... _this was not recreational.

As Danny's strong strokes took him beyond the low breakers, ducking again and again beneath their white foam to pop up further and further out, he showed no sign of easing up, his progress leaving its own silvery wake. Steve recognized this and sighed at what it meant. He knew it from his own life-long coping methods, and watched until, at last, some two hundred meters out, his friend's pace lessened.

Steve chewed on his lip while the dark blond head bobbed like a marker buoy, distant and silhouetted. Danny appeared to hang in the water for many long minutes, still and apparently staring out at the horizon beyond. Steve cupped his hands around his eyes to shield against the glow and only relaxed a little when Danny finally turned at last and began a slower, labored, swim back, helped along now by the waves.

Steve walked down the sand and was holding out a towel when Danny eventually waded out of the surf. The water streamed off him and in the dimming light his contoured outline stood out in sharp relief when he raised his hands to push back his hair. Steve was sure he hadn't been noticed before but Danny looked up at him now without showing much surprise at all, then gratefully accepted the towel to wipe off his face and chest.

"How d'you know where to find me?" he asked, as though it was a given that he should.

"Well, to be honest, I had expected to be trawling around the bars," Steve admitted. "Thought I'd have to be picking you up off the floor." Danny nodded. "But when I called at your place, one of your neighbors said she'd seen you heading off on a run, so..." Steve shrugged.

"It always seems to work for you." Danny said pointedly.

"Yeah," Steve accepted the truth of that.

Steve had always used exercise to concentrate his mind and clung to his own tough regimen to order his thoughts or, at times, to push them aside. While he certainly enjoyed it, he also needed it – punishing his body to prevent himself from punishing his mind.

Always an athlete, after his mother's death, his workouts had taken on a new urgency. Training as a SEAL was tough and relentless, a supreme fitness expected and necessary, but these days - after his father's murder, after Hesse, Wo-Fat, the whole Jameson mess, in prison, in trouble and in grief - the physical challenges he set himself were more than just that. They were elements of his life that were constant and controllable. Blood thumping around your body could deaden the voices, blot out the images. Oh yes, Steve understood what Danny was talking about, alright.

He nodded at the sea and went on with a forced light tone. "I did wonder at one point if I'd have to come out there and fetch you back – you looked as if you were heading for the mainland, man."

Steve's teasing came with a smile but when Danny turned to him, towel draped over his shoulders, he recognized the genuine concern on his friend's handsome face. Danny had felt it directed his way a lot over the past few weeks and he appreciated it, he really did, and he knew it deserved an honest response.

"I considered it ..." _What the hell are you doing here? Give it up! Not yours. Idiot! Give up! _The debate had indeed raged, fueled by self loathing and despair and sadness, with each step and swim stroke. He didn't voice it to Steve though ..._No need to worry the guy any more than he already is._..

"Thought about that drink too," he admitted with a thin, wry smile. "But if I'd started with that...Well, let's just say, I would have found it hard to stop."

Their eyes met in understanding before they both looked away again, staring out at the golden sun just tucking itself behind the pink clouds. All around them, people halted in their beach strolls to gaze at the nightly masterpiece of nature.

"I'm sorry about what I did at the quayside..."

"I'm sorry about what you're going through..."

They spoke together and stopped together, then turned to face one another with an embarrassed laugh that faded into an accepting silence.

"So...about that drink...I guess it's a good job I only brought a six-pack then, huh?" Steve held up the pack in his hand with a smile and handed Danny a bottle. He accepted it with a nod and, collecting his shoes and shirt on the way, they headed up the sloping beach together towards Steve's parked truck, not saying another word until they leaned back against its warm hood.

Danny tipped back his beer and wiped his lips slowly with the back of a salty hand before suddenly picking up a conversation that had not yet even been spoken.

"It was just a shock, man, y'know? Seeing...seeing them...like that. I mean, it shouldn't have been, I guess. Of _course_, they'll all be together... Gracie's so excited to have a little brother...It's not like I didn't know that...that I've never thought that...that they would all be a ..." His voice tailed off. It was disconcerting to Steve to hear his partner so lost for words.

Since Rachel gave birth to Stan's baby, Steve had known Danny was struggling. He'd been quieter than normal, in Danny that was always worrying. Steve knew how hard it had been to have her walk away from him for a second time, turning her back on his love and ripping apart his hopes of renewing their family.

Only finding out after the damage had been done, Steve had felt so guilty for it, for not being able to prevent it, for not being there to help or to listen. His own imprisonment and Danny's dogged tenacity in his efforts to get him out, to solve the former governor's murder, to hold their disintegrated team together, had all delayed his awareness of the pain his friend was in, of how his world had crashed. Subsequently, Steve and the team had done their best to support him. They'd been amazed at how he had managed to plaster over the cracks in his mask of normality.

Steve had been left in awe of Danny's strength when he'd actually helped deliver the baby that he'd so desperately hoped would be his. He knew the sadness that he'd seen in his friend's face as he looked into that nursery, still haunted him.

He'd tried to create some distance in the past month. Having bought gifts for the newborn, Danny had listened as Grace talked about him non-stop, accepted the times she'd wanted to stay home to help her mother bathe him instead of meeting up with her dad for a planned outing. Each thing hurt and his friends knew it.

That afternoon, in the middle of a chase, seeing that new family together, so happy, so complete, so utterly and exactly what Danny had always wanted, must have been gut-wrenching. No time to prepare and no time to recover – the deadly standoff on the quayside had been the result.

Steve's own gut flipped at the memory of what might have happened, of what he'd seen in Danny at that moment.

When they'd got back to Headquarters, their two prisoners had been handed over to the HPD to be processed along with the rest of the counterfeiting gang, captured the day before. They were simply the suppliers of the stolen computers that had been used but Steve tore into the Secret Service Agent for failing to warn them they were likely to be armed. His anger was deferred from the moment of helplessness earlier, but the agent didn't know that, and his roar of fury at the inept running of the whole operation could be heard over most of the building.

Danny should have been pleased with that, at other times he would have been, but instead he'd taken a low profile and shut himself away to complete the necessary paper work, his body rigid with concentration at the keyboard even though his mind was clearly far away.

"God, I just wish I hadn't said anything...Chin, that was so awful...how could I not have seen what it would do?" Kono had whispered, as she watched her friend through the glass. She felt terrible at having been the one to point out Danny's daughter, to have drawn his attention. She'd wanted to go to him, to apologize, but Chin had held her back.

"It wasn't your fault. It was just...unfortunate."

"But he nearly..." Chin had stopped her again with a look. They all knew just how badly the events on the quayside could have turned out. Steve had been left furious and shaken and the return trip had been made in a tense silence that nobody dared break. While Danny had not been killed, he was clearly still hurting.

When Danny had left later with hardly a word to any of them, Steve had forced himself to wait an hour, to give him some space for composure, then headed out to find his friend. This was not a time for him to be alone.

Now though there was really nothing to say. When Steve looked across at Danny, his brow dented with frustration and worry.

"Don't give me that look," Danny muttered without even returning the glance.

"What look now?"

"The 'Share-'cause-I-Care,' McGarrett Agony-Aunt look #3." He held up a hand to prevent Steve's denial. "Oh, I've seen them all, Babe, believe me. This is the one that says 'I'm stowing the SEAL and sinking in sympathy here'..."

Steve shifted slightly and their shoulders bumped, then remained companionably close. "Well, I am...I just don't know what to do to help you, man...I wish I did."

Danny huffed a sour little laugh. His partner still surprised him, often actually, over the warmth and openness of his friendship. For such a tough guy, Steve had proved his generosity and care over and over again. It was one of the few certainties Danny could count on and he valued it beyond almost anything else on this Island, but they both knew, sometimes, it just wasn't enough.

"Nothing you _can_ do, man...It's all me...Nothing new, there!" He took a deep breath and turned to clink his bottle against Steve's, before looking up at him with a sincerity that made his partner's heart clench a little. "But thanks..."

He shrugged slightly and, although he smiled briefly, Steve recognized a sad weariness in the wetness of his eyes, glittering in the now graying dusk.

"So here's to just...getting on with it."

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** More of the case, more of the angst. Thanks so much for reading and especially for reviewing. I really enjoy hearing your thoughts.

**Summary:** The Five-0 team must deal with a murder spree. Danny must deal with his life.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**Three days ago**

HPD called in the Five-0 team once they realized Mickey Melahua's murder was something out of the ordinary. A victim shot at close range, out in the open but with no witnesses and no evidence. Nothing was taken, not even the Rolex Oyster on his left wrist or the hefty gold link chain on his right. His wallet, bulging with fifty dollar notes and a Coutts Gold Card, remained tucked into the inside pocket of his Gucci linen jacket. A quick, proficient and apparently silent job, right on the decoratively paved driveway of one of the island's most sought after and expensive apartment complexes.

Danny beat Steve to the scene by twenty minutes and was already interviewing the tall, smartly liveried doorman, who still seemed as shocked as anyone to have been told the body was there, barely thirty feet from where he had spent the night graciously opening doors to the building's wealthy residents.

"It couldn't have been there when the Dorans came in, they would have told me." He sounded affronted, as though perhaps it was some silly game, designed purely to make him look foolish. Danny's expression suggested that's just what the result was. He briefly caught Steve's eye as he passed by to look at the covered corpse for himself.

"And you didn't step out after that, at..." Danny glanced at his notes, "...two-thirty, to check the grounds? The security guards, didn't do a sweep?" Steve could hear the unspoken question, _"What the hell are these people paying for?"_ in his partner's critical tone.

"The guards patrol the perimeter," the doorman said, haughtily. "Our residents enjoy discretion."

"Yeah, Mr Melahua over there certainly seems to be enjoying it." Danny pointed out, gesturing at the body.

"Nothing like this has ever happened here before. We have cameras to cover the driveway and all sides," the doorman defended.

"All disabled," Danny noted loudly for Steve's benefit and with finality, turned away from the interview to walk towards him.

"The wires to the building's surveillance were all cut," he told him as he approached. "Quite a feat, actually."

He gestured back towards the street. "We'll have to see if the traffic cameras picked anything up."

They stood looking down at the body at their feet, both assessing the perfect placing of the small round hole punched just above and between the eyes and imagining the mess at the back of the skull that had resulted in the sticky pool of blackening blood and brain matter.

"Did you even go to bed last night?" Steve asked quietly.

He had left Danny at around ten the previous evening, after having watched him finish off the six pack and down two tumblers of whiskey back at his shit-hole of an apartment, all the while giving the impression of a man teetering on the edge of a pit, but trying hard to hide it.

He'd slipped occasionally. Steve had seen him physically pressing at his face, massaging his eyes and his brow, holding his jaw, with shaky fingers, as if it might crumble and reveal too much, but he'd valiantly clawed himself back each time. When the exhaustion of the effort and of the days emotions had set in, Steve had offered to stay, to be there to just listen if that's what was needed but Danny had pushed him out... "Go! I'll be fine... Really."_...Yeah, right!_

"Yeah, actually. Eventually, I think I bored even myself to sleep with my woes, thank you Nanny."

Steve wasn't convinced. Danny must have already been up to have taken the early morning HPD call and got here so quickly. He was very glad his partner hadn't fought him when he took the whiskey bottle away with him when he'd left. Today Danny looked gray and tired, pinched, but he was functioning and clearly convinced that they should try to pretend the previous day hadn't happened.

"So...a hit," he announced with certainty.

Steve agreed with his assessment and his determination. It lasted until they got back to their office and the Islands' Sunday newspapers landed on his desk.

"Shit!"

Side by side, they stared down at the photo and the headline of one.

"Caught my best side," Danny muttered blandly as he turned away. His friends saw more than that and, later, so did Rachel.

"What the hell were you doing Daniel. Are you mad? You could have been killed. You look bloody crazy. I've had to hide the newspaper. You do realize, _Grace_ could have seen this. The story says it was at the West Quay...We were _there_ Daniel, we were at West Quay..It was the baby's first outing...Grace could have actually _heard_ the shot that killed you. We were close enough to have heard it. Then what would I have told her, Danny? That her father doesn't care enough about her to even _try_ not to get himself killed. It says here you actually taunted that man, that you _told_ him to shoot you...What does that say to a little girl about her father, Danny?"

Steve watched Danny double over in his efforts not to blurt out a response to what he knew must be a Rachel tirade..._I know you were there! I saw you...I saw all of you...A family. Your family. You think I was nearly killed?...Christ! It was you who was killing me... _

His body seemed to fold in on itself, sitting at his desk with the phone pressed to his face and then to his brow, as the voice apparently went on and on. Danny felt the wound that had cut so deeply yesterday pounding in him again and he clenched his fists to keep control.

From across the room, Steve couldn't hear more than occasional words but, standing at the doorway, he could see the impact.

"She _didn't_ see it did she?" Danny finally interrupted the flow when Rachel apparently took a breath. His voice sounded thin and desperate. Steve guessed the sharp answer from the miniscule relaxation of his rigid shoulders but Rachel clearly didn't even wait to say good-bye, and he watched his friend shut off the phone without another word. Danny remained still, with the cell gripped in his hand, as Steve moved to perch himself on the edge of his desk.

"She always used to say, 'today's news is just tomorrow's chip paper'..." Danny said wearily. "It's a saying, y'know?... Fish and chips...as in, fries? The British wrap their fries in newspaper," he explained in a dull monotone. "Weird."

"She's not being so relaxed about your sudden celebrity then?" Steve prompted.

Danny grimaced and shook his head. "She'd just like me be to be 'old news' in every possible sense," he sighed. "She's right, of course. When I think about what that could have done to Grace..." he trailed off and nodded helplessly at the picture.

_God, Danny! I'm sorry, man..._ Steve leaned over and slapped his arm gently, allowing it to rest there for a short moment of support.

"It'll blow over. Let's just get on with this investigation, see if we can make some different headlines, solve it in record time and knock your ugly mug off the front page, eh?"

They had their own motives, but their determination and many hours of inquiries weren't enough and, by the end of that long day, they still hadn't found any for the first killing.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

**Two days ago**

"Wait!"

"Why?"

"Because you always do this." The accusation came between panted breaths.

"What?"

"This! This whole run, leap, kick, shoot thing."

Steve halted in his long strides to turn back to his partner, who was lagging behind.

"It's called making an arrest, Danny."

"No Steve, it's called making a scene... making a spectacle... making a fool of yourself." Danny punctuated his accusations with both hands.

Steve huffed his anger. He was sympathetic to Danny's moodiness just now, he understood that he had good reason and was willing to make allowances but he was getting just a little sick of the monotony of this same old criticism of his military style tactics. They worked. Usually, they worked just fine.

"Oh, I'm making a fool of myself am I? Look, the guy may call himself a businessman but he is, in fact, a _known_ hard ass, a _known_ con, is _known_ to carry a gun and _known_ to hate cops...He's not going to just stay put while we calmly go and knock on his door and ask him questions or present him with a warrant, even if I had waited for you to go pick it up...We need to take him and take him now. So, tell me Danny, just how is it I am making a fool of myself?"

Danny stood back in a moment of mock admiration for Steve's passionate reasoning and then simply pointed upwards.

"By heading for the wrong building, you dolt."

"Dolt?"

Steve's eyes followed Danny's gesture in time to see a male figure leaping across from the first floor balcony of the building they were heading towards, to another on the adjacent block. Spinning around, he took off, determinedly looking right past Danny's smug grin but aware of his partner veering away as he took the stairs next-door three at a time.

Chico Rodriguez was already at the end of the balcony, clambering over the rail and beginning to lower himself down, when Steve made it to the top. He ducked back as a bullet pinged against the wall at his side and by the time he'd leveled his own weapon again there was just an empty space where the guy had been.

Racing after him, he looked down onto the tops of Danny and Chin's heads as they careered around the corner and sped after the fleeing figure, now on the ground and heading towards the back of the building. He sprinted after them, peering over occasionally, one floor above.

"Five-0! Stop, or we'll fire!" Chin shouted a warning and beside him Danny felt a warm appreciation for correct procedure, until the man ahead suddenly swung around and aimed wildly in their direction. The two shots echoed loudly in the narrow space between the buildings and Danny and Chin threw themselves into cover as two more came alarmingly close and they scrambled to take a position.

"Throw down your weapon!" It was Danny's turn to try reasoning, even though, even he had to admit, it was beginning to look like a waste of time. Another bullet hit the dumpster he was crouched beside, forcing him to duck back.

"No way...you take me for a fool or somethin'?" A heavily accented voice floated back from the edge of the building.

Danny looked over at Chin and they both silently nodded their mutual agreement.

"Well, yeah, I guess we do. But see, like I was just telling _him _...so's _he_."

Chico glanced up to where the blond detective was now indicating with a double handed gesture of '_Well,_ _would you look at that'..._just as Steve McGarrett dropped down right on top of him.

"Ooh!"

Danny and Chin both winced at the sound of air exploding out of lungs, then Danny holstered his weapon and brought his hands together in mock applause as Rodriguez was effectively flattened. The gun he'd been aiming flew from his opened fist and his eyes were left bulging in shock as Steve sprawled over him like a two hundred pound, muscle-packed spider devouring a fly.

In an exaggerated manner, aimed more at his procedure obsessed partner than his prisoner, Steve began informing him of his rights as he cuffed and lead him away. "Chico Rodriguez, you are under arrest for possession of an illegal firearm and for attempting to kill officers of the law. You have the right to remain silent. If You give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

As the leader of Five-0 walked past his fellow team members, Danny's mocking voice floated after him.

"See, Babe, it takes one to catch one..."

As it turned out two hours later, however, Chico was bright enough to lawyer up immediately and their interview at headquarters moved along surprisingly quickly once the dealing started through a sassy young legal intern out to make a name for herself.

"Drop the charges relating to attempted murder and my client will be willing to help you with your questions."

"He shot at us," Danny pointed out mildly.

"He was simply defending himself." She countered.

"Oh yeah, like the two other times he's been charged with assault with a deadly weapon, and that .38 he was using, was not registered."

"That's just down to a simple hold-up in paperwork. He thought you were a threat to his life."

"What! We identified ourselves. He knew full well we were cops." Danny restrained himself from looking pointedly at Steve.

"Yeah," Chico interrupted. "But I saw the paper yesterday, saw you in that picture... You," he pointed at Danny. "You're nuts." He twirled his finger next to the side of his own head in the universally understood sign. "Crazy. "

Chico then he raised his other hand to his chin where a red graze testified to the rough nature of his arrest, and shifted his pointing finger to Steve. "And so are you. You could have broken my friggin' spine, jumping on me like that...I'm just a businessman."

They didn't even bother answering that one.

"Look, we just want to hear about your dealings with one Mickey Melahua. We can see what can be done about the resisting arrest and attempted murder charge." ..._Probably wouldn't stick anyway,_ Steve acknowledged inwardly and his squad had better things to do.

"We've been told you had an ongoing feud with Melahua...A lot of money involved. It got nasty. Threats were made. We have witnesses..." he pressed. In looking into Melahua's background, their inquiries had turned up a bar fight that had led them to Rodriguez.

"What happened? You finally had enough?" Danny picked up. "Decide to get real 'businesslike' with your _unregistered_ .38? Or did you hire someone to do it for you?"

Chico was frowning at them and Danny's heart sank a little at what he was pretty sure was genuine puzzlement on the guy's face. He didn't let it show but he was already getting the annoying feeling that this was not their killer.

A brief whispered consultation with his lawyer and Chico straightened up.

"Look, yeah okay, I had dealings with the guy. He owed me for a deal last year. You're right, it was over a lot of money...sixty thousand. Said he needed it for new machinery or something. But he was slow in paying up, said he didn't have it. So, I..." he paused as though searching for exactly the right phrase. "I paid him a visit... to persuade him, you know."

"Yeah, people have told us all about your visit. It happened in a rather public bar I understand." Steve said. "You said he'd be paying," he glanced down at the notes he held from their earlier leads. "'One way or the other,' was the phrase you used, I believe." He glared at Chico. "And now he's dead. So, care to tell us what happened."

"He paid up." Chico shrugged.

"Just like that?" Danny demanded. "Sixty thousand. I thought you said he didn't have it."

"Well, he found it." Chico grinned. "Must have been my persuasion."

The grin quickly dropped as Steve moved to loom over him.

"Look, I don't know how...but suddenly he came into all this money and paid what was owing. Everything. He moved into that glitzy place, bought a fast car, the threads...you've seen it all. He must have hit the jackpot or something, the Lotto, I dunno."

"Yeah? Well, sadly this is not _your_ lucky day, my friend," Danny said as he moved alongside his partner. "You might walk on the attempted murder but carrying an unregistered gun is still an offence. HPD will be in next."

Steve and Danny left Chico and his lawyer to the uniformed police officers who'd been waiting outside the door and joined Kono and Chin back in their office.

"He was just a self-made businessman. His printing company produced leaflets, brochures, stuff for schools and other firms. Not that big really. I still don't see how he could have made enough from what's here to fund the luxury he's been living in." Danny leaned against the central table, gesturing to the evidence they had on their victim's business accounts and his firm's website.

"It seems his personal boom only started about four months ago," Kono picked up, explaining their findings so far. "Right when others in the property market are finding it tough...Yes, Danny the global downturn has _even_ affected Hawaii," she added quickly, as he looked about to launch into another rant on over-priced apartments that he couldn't afford. "That's when Melahua moved to his own fancy place, changed up his car, bought into all the right places. Just like Rodriguez told you."

"Don't suppose he could have been involved with our counterfeiting masterminds could he?" Danny pondered. "Y'know, he had printing presses..."

"I already ran it past the goons on that case," Steve answered shaking his head. "Funny, the difference a day makes. They're very keen to co-operate and share information with us now." The others all grinned at that, even Danny. "No, there's no connection there. Nothing."

"You sure it comes from his business?" Chin asked.

"At this point, it all _looks_ legitimate," Kono replied. "I can't find any indications it didn't, but he has some _major _security on his files...real high-end stuff," she shrugged. "I haven't been able to get into all of it but I haven't yet traced any unusually big deposits at the time of this apparent change in his luck. We'll have to subpoena the bank. He must have hidden accounts."

"Well, on the suspect front, we have nothing either." Steve noted, his frustration evident in his pacing. "Nothing to even begin to ID the shooter, beyond the fact he apparently knew exactly what he was doing. We may be looking for more than one person. Along with the building's security, three of the nearest traffic cameras had been knocked out and there was nothing from any further away. I've asked for facial recognition software on mugs coming through the airport in the last few days, but nothing red-flagged so far."

The blanks they were drawing were frustrating. They had their feelers out amongst informants but no word had come back over a professional hit. Hardly surprising, professional hit men weren't called professional for nothing. They still had no way of knowing if this was a homegrown killer or someone brought in.

Until something changed, the team faced a dead end. The next day they faced another dead body.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

**24 Hours Ago  
><strong>

"They're gonna kill you, y'know."

Danny looked up at the warning to find the faces of his three team-mates ranged around him. He slowly and deliberately brushed the sugar from his top lip and then from his shirt front, before screwing up the brown paper bag his malasada had come in and tossing it at Steve.

"Comfort food," he said brightly and the others could see the truth of it but knew also there was probably more in the fact that he couldn't be bothered to shop and cook for himself. In fact, in the past couple of days he hadn't shown much interest in food at all. With a new day, they were all set to continue their murder investigation but it seemed Danny hadn't even taken a break. Papers from Mickey Melahua's home were strewn over his desk and his laptop was open already, showing lists of computer files.

Steve eyed his partner's clothes. The pale blue striped button down looked remarkably similar to the one he'd had on yesterday but, then again, he knew Danny kept clothes in a locker downstairs too, so he could have changed, even if he hadn't been home. He wished now that he'd ignored Danny's protestations and seen him back to his apartment the previous evening.

"That sugar high will only make you crash, Brah," Kono nodded at some grains still stuck to his fingers. "Lunch is on me, later, okay?" She left the invitation hanging, hoping he would accept it as a gesture of concern for a friend. He did, but not quite in the way she'd anticipated.

Leaning back in his chair Danny brushed his hands together then swept them back over his hair and attempted a grin. It was a feint shadow of his normal expression and didn't really reach his eyes, failing to crinkle those laughter lines that usually made him easy to read and serving only to highlight his evident exhaustion rather than hide it.

"Look, I know what you're doing here, and I know I'm not exactly the jolliest of company at the moment but please, let's not have another day of you tip-toeing around me like I'm some dumped schoolgirl with boyfriend issues. Yes, alright...my family circumstances are just ...crap... at the moment, okay? My life is crap and I feel like crap. And if I want to _eat_ crap then, I think I will, just this once, go against my daughter's wishes that I eat a Super SEAL-style granola breakfast, and risk a heart attack..."

He stood up and nodded at the paper ball that Steve had caught.

"At the same time I am selflessly supporting local business entrepreneurs in their bid to succeed and thrive in this gloriously god-forsaken State, _and_ doing the one thing that's keeping me sane at the moment...my job." He'd kept his tone light but he wasn't kidding anyone.

This was clearly going to be another day in what was less than Paradise for Danny.

"Oooo-kay, then..." Steve sighed. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to say next but was saved from the decision by the ringing of his cell. Answering and then listening, he reached out to put an arm around his partner and began guiding him out. Shielding the mouthpiece of his phone he spoke instead to Danny.

"Something to add to your mood, Sunshine – we've got another murder."

An hour later and the team were united in their assessment of the latest scene.

"Anchor Man." Kono spoke their thoughts aloud and the others nodded as they gazed around the apartment.

"Or Hefner," Danny added.

"Goes to show, money doesn't necessarily buy you taste," Chin muttered under his breath as they watched the forensics team still taking their shots and measurements.

Tape already marked the white marble floor and the deep red leather sofas. The animal skin rugs, complete with the heads of a lion, a polar bear and the shaggy mane of a zebra, had been shifted aside and the mirrored walls and gaudy artworks that filled the shelves and brushed-suede covered spaces between, were all smudged with fingerprint dust. If not for the police presence it would indeed look like a set from a seventies soft porn set.

The victim, Toby Keku was sprawled over a massive circular bed in the room to their right. With his wide staring eyes he might have looked fascinated by his own spread-eagled reflection in the huge mirror above him, if not for the fact he was so clearly dead. The ornately embroidered black drapes that hung around the top of the bed had been pulled aside to reveal his lifeless bulk. His face was swollen and puffy and his tongue protruded from his open mouth like a pink slug trying to escape. Someone had at least covered over his nakedness by draping the black satin sheets over his middle section.

Their eyes fell next on the pneumatic blond huddled in the corner. Her surgically tightened face was streaked with tear-smudged mascara and, despite her apparent distress, barely moved as she wept. Her evidently implant-enhanced bust was overflowing dangerously from a tiny string bikini. She sniffed noisily into the corner of her pink sarong, while occasionally glancing over at them, and most particularly at Steve.

Looking away, Steve felt Danny's eyes on him too and noted the wicked tic at the side of his partner's mouth as he raised his eyebrows in a go-ahead invitation.

"The perfect place to work that Sex Panther aftershave you so love..." he whispered and then shifted out the way quickly as Steve surreptitiously backhanded a hard slap against his chest in passing.

Destiny Stiles gave her lengthy statement in breathy gasps that served to animate her substantial cleavage like an unstable mountain range during an earthquake. Steve did his best not to look down and listened to an unsettlingly familiar tale of another self-made man who had apparently suddenly come into a lot of money. And then been killed.

The former nail technician, wannabe actress, explained their movements since she and Toby had woken that morning and went on to weakly attempt to answer their further questions.

"He worked all his life in the reclamation business. Then, when it took off a few months ago, he just wanted the _best_ of everything," Destiny said, as she snuffled prettily against the back of her hand. She waved appreciatively around the expensively sleazy apartment and included herself in the gesture too.

"Reclamation?" Danny interjected from behind Steve's shoulder.

She dragged her eyes up from Steve's face to his. "Yeah, metal and cars n'stuff..."

"He was a scrap metal merchant?" Danny clarified.

"He was real successful, especially recently," she defended.

"And you two became close...just recently?" Steve asked.

"Yes, we met the night he was out celebrating a big deal or something, three months ago. But we were going to get married," she replied, gratefully returning her attention to him and his apparently kind interest. "It wasn't official or nothing but that'll count for something won't it? ...You know, in the will?"

"It's one of the things we'll be sure to be looking in to," Danny assured her with a cynical smile. "C'm on.." He pressed a hand on Steve's shoulder and they excused themselves to allow a uniformed officer to escort Destiny to HQ for a full written statement.

"Unbelievable..."

"Yeah, but not a suspect," Steve noted. "She was seen by plenty of people down at the pool, never left, in the hour he was killed. They were seen together, then he left and she found him like this when she came back upstairs. "

They watched her sashay out the door with a lingering backward look of longing at Steve.

"Yeah well, she doesn't exactly strike me as capable of murder. I doubt if she can even spell it," Danny scoffed.

"The place was busy but it must have been real quick. And so far, nobody saw anyone else in the corridor or the elevator or even on this floor," Chin added, as he joined them.

Steve nodded towards the body again, as a camera clicked to take close-ups of the red line of strangulation around its bloated neck. "To me, that would say either very personal or very professional."

"Or both," Danny suggested.

Steve looked around the place, his mind rapidly computing how best to divide their resources now that they appeared to have two cases to handle. It was way too early to be certain of a connection to the previous murder but his instincts were nagging with an insistence that he'd come to rely upon in his career. Paying heed to his senses generally helped him to remain prepared for anything but it still came as a surprise when his phone rang and he saw the name on the screen.

"Governor Denning, good morning..."

As he listened with growing anger, Steve glanced over at Danny, still engrossed in the crime scene, and wondered just what else could go wrong.

The Governor was not happy... _"What the hell is going on with your people Commander? ...Do you realize how damaging this is?...I want to see you in my office in an hour and I want an explanation!" _The governor usually maintained an admirable air of calm whatever the crisis but Steve could hear the contained anger behind his words. However, he also knew for sure it was going to be nothing compared with Danny's reaction when he discovered that, once again, he was the subject of local press interest and, this time, he wasn't the only one..._Shit!Shit!Shit!_

Danny's face-off at the harbor was shown once again. This time, the picture editor had had the time to clean it up and the drama was even more crystal clear but now it was just one in an array of shots documenting the most controversial parts of Five-0's short but highly eventful history.

There was the familiar shot, so beloved of all the media a year ago, of Steve McGarrett being led away into a patrol car in cuffs after Governor Jameson's murder. There was a shot of Kono leaving HPD disheveled and exhausted after twenty four hours in custody, having been questioned over allegations of the theft of millions of dollars from the evidence locker, and a second shot of her looking as though she was a member of a street gang, taken when she was undercover. Somehow the paper had also dredged up an old photo of Chin Ho Kelly from his days in uniform, with a ring of fellow officers staring after him in a less than friendly fashion. Each shot carried their own captions but the fact that Steve was exonerated, Kono was cleared and allegations against Chin being dirty were totally unfounded in the first place, was hardly mentioned at all in the text of the article.

Under the thoughtful headline **'Crack Squad, Cracking Up' **the lengthy piece took apparent delight in questioning the value of such a team when the Governor was about to announce budget cuts. A second headline, in an only slightly smaller font, questioned, **"Is This Our Money Well Spent?"**

Steve could hardly believe what he was seeing as he sat in the governor's office reading the allegations of Five-0's apparent shortcomings. All the work his team had done, all their successes and arrests, were only mentioned in the briefest of terms. Using the news item on Danny's momentary melt down as a peg, the piece was presented as a thoughtful investigation, when it was really just an outright attack.

Beneath the central picture of Danny with that gun at his head, there were quotes from the delivery man. _"Eddie Potts, 51, found himself at the center of the most terrifying ordeal of his life"_... _"That cop clearly had some sort of death wish. I could see it in his eyes. He was stark staring crazy. I was more afraid of him than of the young man who grabbed me."_

Steve angrily reflected on the ingratitude of the man, who having been saved by Danny, had taken a shot on his phone and then sold it

The article went on to outline some of Danny's past. The reporter had dug up gossip on his "broken marriage" and his "difficulty in settling into the Island life." It questioned whether those with no links to the islands could ever understand their ways. The death of Detective Meka Hanamoa, Danny's first partner with HPD, was noted, as though there was a connection, as though he had suffered because of their relationship. There was an inference that the police force was never a place for non-Hawaiians. The word Haole was used again and again and although it was a generally accepted term to describe a main-lander, the article's use made it sound entirely derogatory.

What was most distressing however, was a side panel quoting statistics of burn-out amongst cops; suicide rates; how many officers in the US were divorced; how many admitted to suffering from stress or depression. A tame Professor in Psychology from the University of Honolulu was even quoted.

"_There are many documented cases of criminals who, when cornered, commit what is known as, 'suicide by cop.' That is forcing a situation in which they are killed by police officers, rather than be taken into custody. There is no reason to suppose that police officers may not also seek to use the dangerous circumstances of their job as a possible way out." _The article stopped short of saying that applied to Danny but the implication was clear.

Steve was aware of the Governor watching him as he read right through to the bitter end.

"_Officers of the law should be looked up to and admired, not feared as dangerously reckless and out of control. This latest incident, involving Detective Danny Williams of Hawaii's Five-0 unit, once again exposes the cracks in this so-called crack squad." _He grimaced at the re-use of the pun in the summary, the journalist was obviously very pleased with the symmetry of that particular phrase.

"I've already had a number of calls on this Commander," the Governor began.

"With respect, Sir, it's a pile of crap," Steve retorted angrily.

"Yes, but it's a pile of crap that is going to leave a stench over whatever you do and most importantly, this week, over what _I_ do." Denning moved around his desk to stand in front of Steve. "You do know this is an important week for Hawaii, don't you?" He was a big man and Steve had always been impressed with his manner and support in the past. It was only through his good grace, prompted no doubt by Five-0's successes, that he still had a job here. He clenched his jaw as Denning went on.

"Look, I know I have my detractors and they'll always take their shots, make their smears, wherever they can. I can handle them. But with two murders now in two days the spotlight is firmly on Five-0 and this...this is _not_ helpful."

"It's all just a pathetic rehash..."

"I _know_ what it is, Commander! Believe me, I have already spoken to the editor of the Island Sun about his biased reporting but, up until this point, I believe Detective Williams has never before been a target for press interest. It's new and it's not good."

He pointed down at the picture of Danny's wild look. "_He_ doesn't look good."

He raised his eyes questioningly to Steve who ground his jaw to stop himself launching into an unneeded explanation. Denning nodded in understanding and Steve appreciated the sensitivity as he continued more quietly. "I'll leave it to you to deal with your team but, now that there's a second victim, it would certainly help if you could find the killer."

On his way back to Five-0 Headquarters Steve was still fuming when he took a warning call from Chin that sent him on an urgent detour. Pressing his foot to the floor, he swung a tire burning u-turn and careered across town, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

He arrived at Grace Williams' school to see Danny there before him, holding her tightly, his face pressed onto the crown of her dark head. She was clearly weeping, hiccuping sobs shaking her shoulders. It was heartwrenching to witness. An anxious teacher hovered nearby watching, as Steve did from his parked car, while father and daughter sat on the steps outside the building. Chin had only passed on the few details that Danny had muttered before rushing out. Steve waited long enough to ensure his partner wasn't about to head inside to do any harm to the classmate who had apparently so gleefully shown Grace the latest story about her father.

As Danny hugged away his daughter's fears, stroking her hair and calmly whispering explanations, encouragement and denials, Steve just wished his friend could believe in his own reassurances.

**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thank goodness, we've caught ourselves up. Bridging chapter ahead. Like Danno himself, it's shorter but needed!

**Summary:** _Suck it up and step away_. Danny pays the price for his recent actions.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

**Present Day**

Danny's resolve to ignore others' interest in him carried him through the Michael Trent murder scene. While he walked around the pool where the man had died and as he studied the slit throat, it dulled the whispers that came from the HPD officers there. When he left, it carried him past the early arrival of the few local reporters who were kept beyond the crime scene tape and therefore beyond his earshot.

His determination began to crumble when, heading back to Headquarters to learn why Steve had been delayed that morning and what new problems they now faced, he flipped on a local radio station, only to hear a call-in show apparently debating his state of mind..._Huh. Even I don't understand it._..Danny was stunned that his life seemed to have become fodder for public consumption. The show's host was doing his best to broaden the topic to the more general ground of the stresses faced by those doing dangerous jobs, but caller after caller seemed to have seen the newspaper articles and they all apparently had a view on "That crazy cop."

Danny's control finally left him entirely when he stepped out of the Camaro to find the journalist who'd written the stories about him and his team waiting for him. He felt a rage building in his core, spreading through his veins and heading straight to his fists.

"Danny! No!"

He barely registered Chin's shouted warning as he slammed the car door and strode over to the thin, pasty man who stood, jiggling with anticipation, on the steps of the Palace building.

"Detective Williams, do you have a comment on..."

"You son of a bitch..." Danny was seeing red.

"Danny!"

Returning from interviewing a friend of their first victim, Chin was in time to recognize what was about to happen. He saw the rigid, bunched muscles and the clenched knuckles and sprinted to reach Danny just before he piled into the guy. Gripping him by the arms and struggling to hold him back, he put his own body between them and forced his teammate back.

"Do you know what that crap you wrote has done to my daughter?" Danny shouted over Chin's shoulder, pushing against him and gesturing with stabbing fingers. "And where the hell do you get off printing all that other stuff ...with your insinuations and allegations. Call that news? You want a comment? _Now_, you ask me to comment? You're a slimy piece of shit without an ounce of genuine original talent in your pathetic body...Call yourself a journalist? You're nothing but a miserable bottom feeding louse, regurgitating the same old lies for the sake of a fucking byline and the chance to take a dig...How's that for a comment, you fuck!"

The journalist had the good sense to back away rapidly and Chin forced Danny up the steps.

"Don't Danny. Don't give him what he wants," he hissed.

"It's not just me Chin," Danny pushed back. "All that stuff about you, and Kono and Steve...You just make this job harder you little prick." The last was shouted over Chin's still forceful shoulder.

They both turned back to watch as the man scurried away towards where a photographer was tucked behind a palm tree, his long lens camera still held up to his eye and trained on them. However, it flew from his hands and smashed on the ground as Kono bumped hard against him. Having followed Danny from Trent's place, she'd been parking up when she also saw what was happening and took her own measures to protect her team.

"Oops!" She said sweetly. "So sorry, didn't see you there..."

She reached down and grabbed up the camera. Red faced with outrage, the photographer made his own grab but she was quicker and spun around, fingers deftly ejecting the memory card and flying to the delete function.

"Oh dear, it seems to be broken..."

Pirouetting back and forth to avoid the grasping hands, she eventually held the camera out, as if to return its broken pieces but then let them slip once again.

"Ooh, I'm just _so_ clumsy."

She tutted in mock sympathy as the photographer cursed at her and dropped to his knees, scrabbling for them on the ground.

"We'll sue you for that, Bitch," the journalist yelled in her face.

"Try it," she shot back. "If you'd done any proper research on Five-0, you'd see we get to clean up garbage like you, using all means and immunity."

Kono turned to jog to her friends, revealing to them the small card in her open palm before slipping it into the pocket of her skinny jeans.

"Nice, Cuz!" Chin grinned.

"Yeah. Thanks Kono," Danny added, still glowering after the now departing journalist. "And you too, man," he addressed Chin. "I think I might just have killed him if you hadn't been here."

"I think you might too," Chin agreed.

"No problem, Brah...we've got your back," Kono smiled, patting his arm as they all went inside.

When Steve dropped the bomb that he was being pulled from the now triple murder inquiry, at first Danny couldn't believe it. It came as a body blow. He'd immersed himself in the investigation and the rapid escalation in the number of victims had given him very little time to think of much else, for which he was thankful. The irony that these deaths were life-savers to him was not lost on Danny.

The case was all that had been holding him together over the past few days. That and his friends. He knew they had been treading on eggshells as he blew hot and cold, constantly trying to read him and to offer what help they could, on the look out for signs of further implosion. Without them he'd have had a hard time handling the bleak emptiness constantly hovering at his edges, and the fury over Grace's distress the day before.

His New Jersey family had been there three years ago, when his world first tilted with his divorce but he'd had to dig deep into his own reserves when he chose to begin a new life in the Islands, so he could be the dad he wanted to be. Still, he'd got through it, because Danny Williams was nothing if not resilient. But that moment on the quayside, three days ago..._Christ, is that all it was?_... had so nearly overwhelmed him once again.

Steve had been his constant, checking his moods with cautious glances, giving him strength just by his presence and his calls, pulling him through.

So, to hear now that Steve was dropping him, initially, felt like a betrayal but, in seeing his partner's concerned eyes, he also understood the need. He had to suck it up and step away, even if it was just for a couple of days.

"A missing college student." Danny muttered to himself, shaking his head wearily as he sat down heavily at his desk. "Jeffrey Trewl, why the hell would you want to come back here?" he mused.

The preliminary reports showed the young man's father had connections that reached even beyond the office of the Governor of Hawaii. When he was first reported missing, it hadn't been the New York Police department who had investigated, but the FBI.

"There was no evidence of foul play, Detective. We checked his apartment. His laptop was missing but that wasn't necessarily an indication of much. His desk was a mess, someone might have gone through his stuff there, through his letters and papers, but really, he might just have been disorganized in his filing and we couldn't tell if anything had been taken. By the time we were called in, nobody had seen him for a week."

Vivienne Johnson, Supervisory Agent at the FBI's Missing Person's Unit in New York, addressed him via Skype on his computer screen. She was smartly dressed in the usual Fed uniform of a white shirt and dark suit and Danny was reminded again of how people still maintained such different standards of businesslike appearance outside of Hawaii. He appreciated her professional manner and immediate co-operation. Her strong New York accent triggered another twinge of homesickness.

"Nothing happened that might have prompted him to up-sticks and disappear?"

Viv Johnson shook her head. "Only thing that stood out as a possible trigger was the death of a girl he'd been close too. Emily Ray. Drugs overdose. But that was months ago. He didn't have many friends. Hardly any, in fact."

Danny was looking over the details in front of him as he listened.

"We also checked at NYU – the guy is a computer whiz. He did a lot of work there and we took the machine he worked on there to pull what we could and found a couple of hard drives."

"You turn anything up?" Danny asked.

Agent Johnson shrugged. "It's all been with our computer experts since then." She smiled wryly. "I'll give them a nudge but with no evidence of a crime, the case is really not a high priority, even if Trewl's father has influence..." Her brow raised in sympathetic query at Danny. "I guess he called in favors to get you involved too, huh?"

"Turns out his support for our Governor here buys a lot," he agreed.

"Well, Mr Trewl Senior lives on Long Island. We interviewed him but he really doesn't even know his own son. Never spent any time with him. Been out of his life completely since he divorced his mother ten years ago. His interest now seems to be some sort of belated guilt compensation. His idea of fatherhood was only ever to send a monthly child support check and then to pay for his college education." Johnson clearly disapproved and Danny assumed she was probably a mother herself.

"So, it was Senior who suggested his son might come here to Hawaii?"

"Yeah, he grew up there with his mother. Left when she died. It's all in the file I sent you."

Danny nodded his thanks. They chatted a little longer, comparing views from their office windows, the time difference and catching up on the Jets' progress. The call ended with a promise to keep each other informed.

Danny looked up through the glass wall of his office to see his three team mates heading out, following up on the business leads of the murder victims he assumed.

_Not your case, live with it! _Danny told himself.

His own afternoon was spent on further calls and a couple of visits to those who once knew Jeffrey Trewl and his mother, Anne. Since her death five years before, he had no home in the Islands and there were no school friends who had kept in touch personally or even on the social network sites. It took Danny several hours to discover none of them even knew where he might stay if he came back to Hawaii.

Variously described as a loner, a nerd and even weird, Danny was left with the impression that he was searching for an extremely bright young man who had never quite found his place in the world. Computers were his refuge and on his ability in that field, everyone was agreed. His professor at NYU described it as genius.

"Hey!"

Danny waved a wait-a-moment finger at Steve when he entered, jotting down the last of the details he was being given over the phone.

"Thanks Mrs Hagino, you've been a great help. I'll let you know if we find anything," he finished, replacing the handset and standing up to meet his friend.

Steve's expression was unusually tentative, as though he wasn't sure Danny would want him there, if he was forgiven. "Getting anywhere?" he asked.

"Well, I haven't found him yet, if that's what you're asking," Danny replied sharply, then relented when he saw Steve seem to brace himself for further aggression over his frustrating assignment. "But there are a few places to check out, places his mother used to work for a start. She worked for a contract cleaning company. He used to go along with her as a kid, so he'd know them pretty well. I figure he might just go hang out there if he wanted a little alone time."

Steve nodded. The Governor had been calling him for updates but he was shielding Danny from the added pressure. He watched as his partner leaned back to ease his aching back muscles.

"Coffee?" It was a peace offering and the pair moved out towards the informal corner of the outer office where the machine was bubbling. In passing, Danny jerked a thumb to the images on the wall screens – the websites of the companies run by the three murder victims, alongside mug-shots of some local hoods that Danny didn't recognize..._Not in the loop._

"You guys getting anywhere?" Danny couldn't help himself. "Financials showing anything?"

Steve shook his head but didn't hesitate to answer. He'd never expected Danny to be able to shut off from the murders completely, he was too good a cop. Besides, they always worked best when they bounced ideas off each other.

"Still nothing to connect them. Chin and Kono are out rounding up a couple of guys who worked for Melahua and have some form, but they're not killers. Trent's ex-wife claims he had no enemies and can't imagine why anyone would want to slit his throat."

Danny passed him a mug of coffee. "She know much about his business?"

They wandered back to the central desk. "No, but she confirmed he'd been spending a lot recently, more than usual. She was kinda pissed over it actually." Steve sighed. "Thing is, we still haven't been able to trace where this money they'd all come into originates from. I'm going to have to get some computer forensics experts on board."

They stood silently for a moment before he turned to prompt Danny again.

"So...your leads..."

Danny pulled his thoughts back to his own case. "Ah. Yeah, well the thing is, they're pretty spread out. All over the islands, in fact. And no way to check them without actually visiting them."

"So, you'll be out the office tomorrow then?" Steve accepted simply.

"Yeah, don't worry, you can tell the Governor I won't be around to spoil his press conference."

"Only wish I could join you, man. He wants me there with him."

"Well, you better duck and cover, Babe. There's gonna be some difficult questions to answer. And let's just hope we don't get another body tomorrow...four for four, y'know." Steve noted that his partner still included himself in that wish, still saw himself as part of their Ohana. He was grateful and relieved. Danny would be back, the team needed him, wasn't the same without him. They just had to get through the next twenty four hours.

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: **Five-0 is divided. Danny needs a break but he's still attracting unwanted attention.

**A/N:** I should probably mention here that I am no expert in firearms, aviation, meteorology or indeed, Hawaii. If you are a gunman, pilot, weatherman or have ever lived in or visited Hawaii, I hope you can forgive any errors - research can only take you so far.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

"You know, I could have driven myself to the airfield."

"I wanted to see you off."

"You wanted to see me off? What am I, a child? I could have seen myself off." They'd been having this conversation since Steve had picked him up at dawn. Danny looked pointedly at where Steve rested a relaxed hand on the steering wheel. "In fact I could have driven myself, in _my own car_, to see myself off. But that's it, isn't it? You want my car ...again!"

"I just thought I should be there to introduce you. You know, to my friend...the pilot."

Danny studied Steve's profile and saw something like the twitch of a smile.

"What was that?" He pointed. "That, right there...that look...you have the look of a man who is far too pleased with himself...Spill, McGarrett!"

"What? I'm just pleased that you can get away for the day..." He looked across at Danny. "You need a break"

"Oh yeah, and what with Hawaii being 'Assassins' Central' at the moment, this is really the best time to take it..."

"Don't start that again," Steve warned and they both fell silent, accepting that enough had been said on the matter before. Like it or not, Danny was off the triple murder and on the missing person. To Steve, the fact that this case meant he would be forced to have a much needed change of scene, albeit for only a day, was an added advantage.

"I'm glad you took my advice, incidentally," Steve said by way of a diversion, nodding down at Danny's pants.

"Oh my God, Steve! What are you, my mother? I _can_ dress myself. I've been doing it for years now..."

"Well sort of..."

"Sort of? Sort of?"

"Well, yeah, Jersey-style," Steve muttered under his breath.

"For your information, I did not _need _your advice. If I'm going to be traipsing about various islands, of course I'm gonna dress appropriately. I am going to wear something that is _suited_ to the place, to the occasion and to the task in hand...like I always do."

They pulled into the car park still bickering. Stepping out of the Camaro, with a theatrical, sweeping up-and-down gesture, Danny indicated his hiking boots, jeans and light blue, loose fitting v-necked tee-shirt. Steve thought he looked good.

"See, my friend, this is what I call _appropriate _attire for being in the outdoors." He waved around at the open air, then pointed at Steve's own similarly relaxed outfit, the same one he wore everyday. "You should understand, Steven, that it is _not_ what I would call suited to police work of a more serious nature, like murder investigations for example, or indeed for meeting with the governor... again!"

Steve got the point but simply rolled his eyes at the same old argument and waited as Danny grabbed his day sack and a lightweight weatherproof jacket from the back, before escorting him towards the offices of the Sunburst Choppers Chartering Company.

Walking straight though to air-side, Danny noted the jauntiness of his friend's long stride as they headed for a brightly painted Squirrel helicopter which sat there neatly, like a red and yellow toy waiting to be played with. He put it down to the early hour and the fact that their dawn start had prevented Steve's usual morning swim. The guy just had too much energy..._Big freakin' kid!_

"You do realize the last time I flew in one of these with a friend of yours, there were chickens roosting in it and it sounded like a washing machine with a broken motor."

Steve glanced over and thought his friend did actually sound a little nervous. He knew Danny didn't mind flying but he hadn't even considered the effect that those memories might have.

Danny continued as they walked. "That guy was a complete loon...like something out of Apocalypse Now...And if you remember, _one_ of us nearly died that time." Danny's tone had turned a little accusatory, as it usually did when those events were brought up but Steve knew it was never about the choices he'd made then over what had turned out to be a fake rescue mission, or even the tragedy and torture they had led to. No, it was only ever about the risks he'd put himself under and the fact that Danny had nearly lost him.

The loss of Jenna Kaye, her betrayal and murder, still weighed heavily upon Steve but Danny would never let him dwell upon it, never allow him to shoulder the personal responsibility he felt. Danny's absolute belief in Steve at that time and since, the trust he had in him, had pulled him away from his own depressive thoughts on countless occasions and he owed him for it. They'd survived so many crises.

Looking across at him, Steve still couldn't believe that their friendship had come so far, from that first day when Danny had laid out his_"I-am-not-risking-my-life-for-you"_ rules, to his determination to risk everything to save him.

"Yeah, I was there remember," he reminded him simply. "But that was North Korea, buddy...This is a little different..."

They were approaching the chopper and moved around to the far side from where the sound of metallic tapping could be heard. Danny opened his mouth to continue his anti-helicopter diatribe but instead, suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Before them was the tightly clad form of a very shapely, very feminine butt. The rest of the body was lost inside the chopper's engine housing.

Both men stared in mute appreciation for a long moment before Steve turned a broad, wicked grin on his friend, who remained with his own blue gaze glued to the sight. _This_ is what Steve had come for and Danny's reaction was all that he'd hoped it would be.

He coughed lightly and the woman quickly moved back, turned and straightened up, grabbing for a cloth to wipe her hands. In doing so, the material of her smart white blouse appeared to strain across a rather magnificently rounded bust.

"Hey, you made it!"

She greeted them enthusiastically, stepping forward to reach up to give Steve a quick peck on the cheek and for him to return the favor, even though he had to bend low to do it. She barely came up to his chest. She slapped him playfully on the arm. "It's been too long, it's great to see you."

Smiling, Steve stepped back. "Sam, this is my partner, Danny...he's going to be your passenger."

Danny quickly forced his eye-line upwards, taking in her pretty, tanned face, the large brown eyes and her collar length wavy blond hair.

"Hi...er...Hello. Very nice to meet you, Sam." Steve noticed him doing that shuffling thing with his feet that was a giveaway to Danny's rare uncertainty. Steve found it strangely endearing and grinned delightedly as his friend quickly held out his hand.

Danny found Sam's grasp firm and her smile was open and friendly. Her nose wrinkled, and her eyes flashed warmly.

"Just making my last checks and we can be off in a couple of minutes, okay?" She slammed the hatch of the engine closed and brushed past them to scan over the other side of her bird, leaving a faint scent of citrus freshness in her wake.

Watching her pass, Danny turned his body away towards Steve and spoke very quietly from the side of his mouth. "So... _that's_ Sam, huh?"

Steve nodded like a mischievous schoolboy who'd managed to pull off a magnificent prank and Danny narrowed his eyes at him. "Please...Please tell me this is not all just an elaborate attempt to fix me up with a woman, Steven."

Steve widened his eyes in innocence. "She's a pilot Danny...You needed a pilot, and I got you one."

He slung an arm around Danny's shoulders and guided him towards the passenger seat, handing up his bag as he climbed in. Danny was shaking his head in disbelief at his partner's antics but there was a grin forming too as Sam hopped in the other side, flicking switches to turn on the engine, putting on her headset and checking her instruments.

The rotas whined into action, starting to turn slowly and she shooed Steve away but, before he closed Danny's door, he beckoned his partner to lean down to within earshot.

"You know Danny, tourists pay thousands of dollars for this island hopping gig." He rested his hand on his thigh and thumped it playfully.

"Go... Get this stuff done and then get back here...And just _try_ and enjoy yourself, Danno," he shouted.

As he slammed the door shut and stepped back to the building to watch them lift off, Steve's last view of Danny was of a mockingly accusatory finger wag and a laughing smile that matched his own.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

The Governor's press conference had been pre-arranged as part what was going to be a big week. The next day, the President of The United States would be flying in to unveil a new memorial to the dead of the Pacific Campaign of the Second World War. President Obama's own Hawaiian heritage always resulted in a media circus and Denning hadn't wanted his spending plans to get lost amongst that furore, so he was getting his own business out of the way.

However, after the cuts of over a billion dollars and spending of nearly fourteen billion were explained at length, the business of the day was not over. Traditionally, this was also an opportunity for the press to get comments on a whole range of other Island issues. Today they had murder on their minds.

"Three deaths, what can you tell us about the investigation?"... "Do you have any suspects?"... "Was there a connection between the victims?"... "Is there any truth in the rumors that these killings appear to be the work of a professional hit-man?" All good questions that his own team were also asking, Steve acknowledged inwardly.

He stood beside the Governor and when required, batted back what answers he could, repeatedly angling them towards appeals for anyone with information to come forward.

Scanning the faces of the journalists seated in rows in front of them, or standing in bunches at the back of the room, Steve sought out the weasley face of one in particular and knew they were just warming up.

"Governor, three murders in three days...In light of your announced spending cuts, can we actually still afford for your Five-0 task force to be handling these investigations? After all, they don't seem to be doing a very good job so far..."

_Ah, there you are, you little bastard..._A hush fell on the room as everyone turned to look at the questioner and then back to the Governor and Lt Commander Steve McGarrett.

Donald Stuart had crept in to the rear of the room late, uninterested in the talk of finance, only in pursuing his own agenda. Steve held his tongue as Denning drew a calm breath and began his answer.

"These brutal murders have shocked the Islands. As the Commander has already outlined, the investigation is still underway, but I have complete faith..."

"But Governor," Stuart interrupted rudely. "Do you really think, in light of what we know of the members of your so-called _elite_ Five-0 unit," the reporter sneered, making Five-0's name sound like a dirty word and looking around to bask in the attention he was getting. "Do you think they are even _capable_ of catching the killer?"

"Mr...Stuart," Denning conveyed his contempt in the spitting out of the reporter's name. "I think we _all_ know of your, and your paper's, attempts to discredit Five-0. In fact, it's been hard to miss your particular style of muck-raking in the past few days, when there have certainly been far more important things that should concern us all. However, let me give you some _truths_ to quote instead of the smears you've seen fit to publish recently."

Denning's voice rose louder. "Since the establishment of this unit there has been a twenty percent drop in serious crime in Hawaii. Commander McGarrett and his team have an admirable ninety six percent conviction rate on all their cases, including, in the past eighteen months, nineteen murders, thirteen armed robberies, seven kidnappings, four extortion and prostitution rackets, fourteen major drugs deals, three bomb threats, and two child pornography rings, to name but a few. They've also played a vital role in numerous terrorism, federal and international investigations that have led to further arrests on the mainland and prevented serious crimes overseas."

Denning knew how to work an audience and he was well prepared. He held up a sheaf of printed statistics to the whole room. "I have copies here for you of details of all the Five-0 successes, at least, those which are not classified for reasons of national security."

He turned once more to the Island Sun journalist, now left isolated by the rest of the group who'd moved away from him in discomfort.

"So yes, I _do_ believe that Five-0 is more than capable of catching those responsible for these most recent murderers, and I believe the people of Hawaii can certainly share in my confidence."

Steve managed to remain expressionless as he stood solidly at the Governor's side, but he felt a satisfying glow of pride at the conviction he heard in Denning's voice. Their eyes met briefly and he read a silent indication there... _"Do not make a liar of me!"_

The reporters began to shuffle in anticipation of the end of the press conference, some moving forwards to take the proffered photocopies. However, Donald Stuart was not going to give up on what had been his first ever big story. He'd been given a line to take by his paper's owners and editor and he was determined to prove himself.

"How can you claim such confidence, when one of Five-0's members, Detective Danny Williams was clearly seen to be so...unstable, during a recent arrest..." The sneer was back.

Steve flinched with the urge to leap forwards and grab Stuart by the throat but Denning interrupted his murderous thoughts.

"Detective Williams risked his own life to rescue a hostage from a life-threatening situation. The hostage taker was disarmed successfully and arrested as part of a major counterfeiting ring. No member of the public was injured. I believe the facts speak for themselves..."

"Commander McGarrett," Stuart interrupted again, changing targets and hoping to goad the quotes that he already had written in his head. "Isn't it true that Detective Danny Williams has been taken off the recent murders? That you have removed him from the case?"

The room quietened again and finally Stuart realized he might just have pushed too far. Steve nailed him with a glare that would halt better men in their tracks. The air crackled with anticipation.

The former SEAL dearly wanted to answer some of the unfair attacks on his friend, to point out how good a cop he was, but his leadership training was ingrained. After a long moment, he ground out the traditional line taken by military and police everywhere. Nobody in the room though was left in any doubt that it was also a warning that fell from his lips in a deep growl.

"For operational reasons, I cannot comment on the current whereabouts or duties of my team members."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

The Islands of Hawaii were beautiful. He couldn't deny it.

As Danny gazed down at the emerald valleys, craggy coastlines, tropical hillsides and the snow topped volcanoes, he realized he was actually grinning. The place was an assault on the senses, like living inside a natural history documentary. His Ray Bans cut the worst of the glare but the sun's reflection off the sparkling ocean waves, sent out flares of white which added to the surrealism of the dreamlike scenery.

Sam's normal job was flying air taxis around the many islands, or chartering to tourists. She had an easy patter and her expressive voice filled his head with her commentary on the magma shelves they circled, the waterfalls they glimpsed and the beaches they traced. The Hawaiian names flowed like poetry as they dipped and soared through steam clouds, sea spray and sunshine, as if they were riding the world's most spectacular roller-coaster.

He huffed a quiet laugh to himself as he realized that his spirits were lifting too.

_Un-fucking-believable!..._ Even a city loving cop from New Jersey couldn't deny the jaw dropping beauty of the place.

"Landing again in a couple of minutes." Sam's voice alerted him and she reached out to tap his leg, indicating the next islet on their list. It sat like a tiny green jewel, attached to three others by a golden strand of sand, like some delicate bracelet decorating the sea.

He nodded, glancing down at his notebook and the map folded on his knee... _Three down, seven to __go..and lunchtime!_

**_5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0_**

"I brought you a salad, Boss."

Steve accepted Kono's boxed offering with thanks as he headed to his office. It was their first chance to stop and catch up that day. By the time Steve had returned from the Governor's mansion, Kono and Chin were already out, once more chasing down tenuous leads on the lives of Keku, Melahua and Trent. They had questioned staff at several of the top island night clubs, showing the men's pictures and checking security footage.

Keku and Melahua had both recently become regulars at a couple of the clubs but nobody ever saw them together. One barman, now in the interrogation room downstairs, was also a known supplier of drugs to the party scene. He claimed to have sold to both the men on a couple of separate occasions. Melahua had tried coke and ecstasy, Toby Keku's preference was for a wide variety of sexual performance enhancing drugs..._No wonder, _Steve thought wryly as he remembered the man's fiance, Destiny.

Steve had met with Michael Trent's bank manager, who assured him that he was doing all he could to exacerbate the search of his customer's apparently numerous offshore accounts but that their hands were tied by strict privacy agreements. Even those held by dead clients.

Steve stuffed a forkful of lettuce into his mouth just as his cell rang.

"You wanted me to keep you updated, so here I am." Danny said. He leaned back against a palm tree and stretched his legs out as he held the borrowed satellite phone to his ear.

Steve sat behind his desk and tried to picture his friend. "You on a beach?"

"I'm working, Steven."

"But you're on a beach, right?"

"I am sitting near a beach," Danny admitted coolly. "It's a private beach for the exclusive use of those using one of the three houses I have checked so far. When I say houses, I should actually say P-Diddy type, luxury, Lifestyles Of The Rich and Famous pads, man." He couldn't hold back his amazement at the properties he'd seen so far.

"You wouldn't believe it Steve, these places are amazing...if you like being isolated, cut-off, beyond cell phone reception, surrounded by sea and jungle, and about four hours from the nearest take-out..."

Steve grinned around his mouthful of salad at the image he had of Danny scoping out all that luxury and still finding things to gripe about. "No sign of our missing guy though, huh?"

"Nope! But we're less than halfway through." Danny looked out at the vista ahead of him and then to where the helicopter was parked.

"Nice view."

Steve pictured his friend. "Tell me you're talking about the scenery."

Danny started when he realized he'd spoken aloud... _Damned SEAL!_... He quickly pulled his eyes away from where they'd actually been watching Sam stretching to dig a cool box out of the chopper.

"Yes, Steve, _of course_ I'm talking about the scenery," he replied but couldn't keep a smile from his voice. His partner just seemed to know him too well ..._How the hell did that happen?_

"So, tell me, how'd the press conference go?" he diverted. "D'you leave anyone standing?_" _Danny asked.

"All good. The Governor's on our side, Brah. Nothing to worry about."

Sam sat down next to Danny.

"Okay, well better get back to it then," he said but, holding the phone a little away from his mouth, he called out loudly and with exaggerated jollity, "Hey Sam! Pass me another Longneck, would ya..."

Danny shut off the phone with a smile, unseen but nonetheless directed down the line at his partner. In his office, Steve laughed.

Sam smiled at the charade too and held out a coke instead of a beer.

"You guys are pretty close aren't you?" She asked.

When Steve had called her, she'd been pleased to help. She'd been friends with his sister Mary many years ago and they'd kept in occasional contact. As she and Danny had been flying during the morning, putting down at assorted luxury holiday homes, they'd chatted easily. He'd been desperate to hear any embarrassing stories about his partner's past that he could use for blackmailing purposes at a later date. She was interested to catch-up on what he could tell her of the McGarrett family story. Danny was careful not to disclose too much and they'd danced around each other, both anxious not to overstep. Now though, Sam was curious to know more.

"I keep him in order, I see myself as his keeper...it's like trying to train a gorilla. A gorilla with a penchant for things that explode," Danny laughed. "Apparently, they don't teach finesse in SEAL school. Or rules. He's like my special project."

Sam passed him a wrapped sandwich and watched as he ate. To her, Danny seemed to be a strange mixture of brashness and restraint. She liked him already but in his handsome face she saw lines of weariness and, not for the first time that day, she wondered about their cause. Danny became aware of her gaze and met her eyes, reading the look he saw there.

"Ah-ha, you saw the newspaper articles," he guessed. "The lovely shot of me..."

"Captured your best side, I thought." She joked, unknowingly using Danny's own phrase of deflection regarding the image of his despair on that day.

"My psychotic one," he corrected with a rueful grin, then became more serious.

At the time of that incident he'd felt removed, dissociated, from the danger. He'd channeled his personal pain and allowed it to dangerously over-ride his good sense..._How could I have done that to Grace? _He drew in a breath to calm the familiar fears as they rose.

"I kinda lost it for a moment there," he admitted quietly, then nodded out at the view, at the luxury villa on the hillside above them, and then at her. "This is my punishment."

He meant her inclusion as a tease, instinctively trying the self-deprecation card to shield himself from the hurt.

"Or your therapy," Sam suggested soflty and Danny saw that Steve had probably mentioned some of his pressures to her. He found he didn't really mind. She wasn't pressing for explanations and appeared totally non-judgemental. She was nice.

"Actually it's my job too," he pointed out. "You know, flying about, visiting millionaire's hideaways on the off chance a computer geek, who's mother used to clean house, might just have secretly turned up and booked himself in for an unscheduled stay." He sighed with a dramatic impression of self sacrifice. "S'pose _someone's_ gotta do it." They both laughed.

"Yeah well, I don't think we're going to get to all of those places on your list this afternoon," Sam warned as they stood up, brushing sand off their clothes and heading back to the chopper. She was all efficiency now. "I checked in just now for another weather brief and HIWAS says the trades are coming in faster than they thought."

"Whoah...what's this HIWAS?"

"Hazardous Inflight Weather Advisory Service," she explained with a grin. "They're saying a weather front is heading our way. The trade winds. Low pressure that could mean cloud and poor visibility later. Not good for flying."

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Danny muttered.

"Don't worry, it won't arrive 'til later. We've got plenty of time for a few more stops at least and then I'll get you back safely to your 'pet project.'" Sam and Danny smiled at the reference to their mutual friend. "And hey," she continued. "If we don't get to finish today...we can always do this again another time."

As they climbed back into the chopper, Danny realized that he actually didn't hate that idea at all.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Steve and Kono gazed appreciatively over the racks of weapons on the wall, while Chin leaned his weight down onto the shop owner, now pressed with his sweating face squashed against the counter.

Tony Hoy tried to keep his eyes on the two who were prowling amongst his merchandise but Chin wouldn't let up on his hold and his iron grip held the man's hands behind his back so he couldn't rise, however much he struggled.

"Just stay down," Chin warned. "We won't keep you long."

"No," Steve called over his shoulder, as he took down a Desert Eagle .55 caliber hand gun and tested its weight in practiced hands. "No, it shouldn't take us too long to inventory all these weapons you have here. All the registrations. All the ammo. All the permits. All the licenses. What do you think Kono?"

She was looking around the shelves and cases thoughtfully.

"Nah Boss, I reckon it'll only take a fortnight or so...If we can get enough officers on it, that is." She took up a military style Armalite sniper rifle, pulled it expertly to her shoulder and squinted along the long barrel towards Hoy.

"Of course, the place will have to stay closed while we do it. We will have to be extremely thorough."

Chin grinned to himself at the thought of what Danny would say if he could see this scene... _"Like kids in a candy store!"_...He could hear him now. He missed him.

He pulled Hoy up and swung him around. "You could save us all that trouble Mr Hoy, and yourself the lost business, if you co-operated," Chin explained reasonably. The guy had resisted when they first arrived but it hadn't lasted long.

"I told you, I don't know..."

"Yeah, but see...we don't believe you." Steve said calmly. He'd replaced the Desert Eagle with a Walther P .22 and now seemed to be practicing taking aim at an invisible target just half an inch from Hoy's ear.

"See, we think you are the only place in town that someone might come to for the sort of silencer that would fit onto a Baretta .25 – the sort of silencer that was used on a gun that killed a man three days ago."

"I don't know anything about that..."

Kono had moved up next to him now and was thoughtfully clicking her way through the empty chamber of a Glock. "Well, tell us what you _do_ know," she demanded, pulling back the chamber again inches from his nose.

Hoy worked with guns, they were his business, but these people brought home their threat loud and clear.

"O-Okay...I-I did sell one last week..."

"Who to?"Chin wrenched Hoy's wrists a little higher up his back.

"A guy came in...brought his own weapon and wanted the silencer...fitted it to try it ...he-he was just another customer, I didn't know him..."

Steve was up in his face in two paces. "You get an ID? A name?"

Hoy shook his head. "He wasn't buying a weapon, just the silencer. He was in an out real quick, knew exactly what he wanted, didn't chat or nothin'...paid cash."

"And you didn't think that was odd, I suppose," Chin growled. After all the publicity, it would have been nice to think the islanders would do their best to help the investigation.

Kono was looking at the cameras dotted in the rafters around the gun shop. "We'll be taking the footage from that day," she told Hoy.

"What can you tell us about him?...Description?...Voice?" Chin demanded, each question punctuated with a tighter grip on Hoy's arms. The guy's body odor was ripe, and Chin angled his own face away.

"I-I can't remember. Tall, I think...and he had an accent, a real thick accent...Russian, Polish maybe?" Now that he'd started, Hoy really did want to be helpful, to get himself out of this trouble. He was used to visits from the police, had even met Chin before on other inquiries. Aside from the occasional underground weapon, or rare special deals for special customers, he ran a mostly legal business. But it wouldn't stand up to scrutiny and this McGarrett and his team were something else.

"He seemed to know exactly what he wanted, didn't hang around...you know, real professional," he gabbled on.

Steve, Kono and Chin exchanged glances. It was exactly what they suspected.

Ballistics had identified the weapon used to kill Mickey Melahua as a Baretta .25. Max had found no residue against the wound so the shot hadn't been right against his skull but there was evidence on the bullet casing of a silencer. It made sense, since nobody had heard the fatal shot. That sized weapon, fitted with a silencer, at close range, would barely register as a whisper. But it was also suggested that the silencer was probably new, since striations on the bullet were minimal – It had probably never been used before, no other bullets had scoured its surface as they passed. After receiving that information, Hoy's Specialist Gun Shop was Five-0's first stop.

Steve grabbed him. "You'll be shutting up shop now. You're coming with us to see if you can help us ID this customer of yours." He shoved him ahead as they left, hoping that maybe, finally they might have a break.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Danny stared down at their next venue. As they circled it from above, the island looked like a jagged tooth erupting out of the sea, piercing the sky above in sharp relief. Just under the uneven summit, nestled into the craggy rockside, like a filling in a monstrous chipped molar, was the house Danny had come to check.

Long and low it appeared to be a simple construction of wood and glass but the simplicity of its design belied its expense. Danny glanced down at the brochure that outlined all the details of the places he was searching.

All the villas had Hawaiian names. This was Hale Aouli...'Blue Vault of Heaven.' Four bedrooms, six bathrooms, jacuzzi, heated lap pool and a gym..._All for a mere five and a half thousand dollars a night!...Wow!_ _The price of exclusivity... _Danny was well aware that Hawaii was one of _the_ most expensive places to live in America, but he was still amazed at what was on offer to the privileged few.

Huge picture windows looked out on two sides of the building, its two others seemed to be built into the hillside that towered above and fell away steeply below and behind. A beautiful lanai, shaded by trailing hibiscus and a broad leaved vine, ran around the outside to afford visitors effortless access to the stunning views.

With eyes-on from the sky, this island had nearly triangular dimensions, something like the Flat Iron building in Manhattan. Danny and Sam noted a small jetty poking out from the leeward side of the southern point but there was no sign of any boats moored there.

Danny had been assured by the owner of the letting company that the place was vacant, the island deserted. When he'd begun his quest the previous day, she'd had been very helpful in offering whatever co-operation she could, telling Danny over the phone that she had known Jeffrey Trewl's mother a decade ago and remembered the boy shadowing her when she was employed to clean the properties.

A single dusty track pointed upwards from the jetty towards the villa high above, quickly disappearing from view as it apparently zig-zagged sharply beneath the canopy of trees. Danny supposed most of the wealthy visitors who came here would arrive, as they were, by helicopter. He didn't imagine those who had the money to rent this kind of place would be the sort who would want to clamber up the tortuous path, it looked as though it could take several hours.

The brochure mentioned staff and the promise that luggage could be transported by buggy but there was no movement anywhere below them.

The island wasn't big, less than six miles by four, with all the broadness at the northern end, but its sides rose in steep elevation to broken peaks of over three thousand feet. In places they seemed impossibly sheer and distorted by deep dramatic crevasses like ripped open wounds, sliced into the crazy inclines.

"This must be for the ones who _really_ want to get away from it all," Sam mused through the headset. "Just look at that vegetation."

The rainforest that covered the slopes looked like a single enveloping green shawl of baize, wrapped snugly over the sharp contours. The colors ran from emerald, to olive, to black in the depths of the gouged out clefts.

"You ever brought people here before?" Danny asked.

She shook her head. "Another company has the contract, I think."

Sam circled once again and began their descent onto the dusty landing pad that was laid out in an open space at the very top of the track where it emerged from the forest. The dust settled and Danny prepared to jump down.

"We can't stay here long," Sam called.

She gestured her reminder to the east and Danny could see the dark stain of building cloud. "It'll take us a few hours to get back from here. This will have to be our last stop."

He nodded his understanding. If he was honest, after a full day, he'd about had his fill of flying between the islands. It had been a hell of a ride and Sam had given him the best of tours, swooping from one to another as their whim took them, but there was only so much extraordinary natural scenery his brain could cope with. Grabbing his jacket, he waved at Sam as she sat checking her dials and screens, then headed for the house.

It appeared to be deserted. The letting agent, had said top of the range coded security systems kept her places burglar proof. When there were visitors staying, they used security guards on site but otherwise the Hawaiian adherence to the laws of private property ensured absolute seclusion... _That and it's practically fucking inaccessible,_ Danny thought.

He stepped up onto the lanai and walked around the sides of the building, peering in. It was quiet and yet something attracted Danny's attention. A coffee mug sat out on a low table inside and, cupping his hands around his eyes to shield the glaring reflections in the glass, he also spotted a cereal bowl on the side of the white marble kitchen beyond.

He moved quietly towards the side door and tried it. It was unlocked and the handle tilted easily. He stepped inside and, closing the door again, was enveloped immediately in the hush of double glazed peace.

"Hello!" he called out.

His voice echoed in the silence but Danny felt a familiar prickle of certainty that he was not alone here.

"Hello! Five-0! Is someone here?"

He stood still, listening. A tiny sound, hard to pinpoint, drew his attention and he moved through the house, checking elegant room by elegant room, straining to hear it again.

The place was arranged with all the bedrooms, complete with their gleaming en-suite bathrooms, and the large open plan living space, in a long line. It meant all rooms benefited from the front facing view. Along the back, a glass roofed corridor gave access to all areas. The huge kitchen was the only room behind.

"Jeffrey Trewl?...My name is Detective Danny Williams, of Hawaii's Five-0 unit...If you're here, show yourself."

Frustrated, Danny stopped again thinking back to the brochure details of the property..._Wine cellar!..._In the corner of the kitchen, painted over and masked by shelves, was a small door. He drew his weapon but held it down and loose as he stepped through and began a slow descent of the darkened steps.

"You in the cellar!...This is Five-0,"Danny called again. "I'm coming down," he warned.

Nothing at all in Jeffrey Trewl's case file suggested, if that was who was here, that he would be any kind of threat but Danny's instincts were singing now and there was no way he was entering such a hole unarmed and unprepared.

As his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit space, he reached the bottom of the staircase. In the silence, the cocking of a trigger sounded loud beside his head.

"Don't move or I'll kill you."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Steve was re-reading witness statements at his desk when Kono called him through to the central desk. He looked up to see a feed from the FBI on the main screen.

"A call for Danny," Kono explained. "Thought you'd want to take it for him."

"Hi, Commander Steve McGarrett here," Steve introduced himself to the black female agent who appeared to be peering very intently into her screen.

"Supervisory Agent Vivienne Johnson, Missing Persons Unit," she returned. "No Detective Williams then?"

"Out, I'm afraid," Steve smiled. "I know you've been liaising. Can I help with something?"

"Shame, I was looking forward to another round of 'I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours.'"

"Excuse me?" Steve laughed.

Agent Johnson grinned mischievously. "Views, Commander! Yesterday when we skyped, Detective Williams showed me the glorious sunshine through his office window there and I showed him the brown delights of the Hudson. He claimed to miss the George Washington Bridge particularly."

"Yeah, that's Danny alright," Steve nodded, recognizing his partner's affection for the main route from Manhattan to New Jersey. He waited for more and Johnson's demeanor switched quickly as she continued.

"I have some interesting news for him, and for you, I think. He called me first thing this morning...it would have been the middle of the night where you are...I guess the man was having trouble sleeping." Steve nodded..._Yeah, that'd be about right huh, Danny... _"He said he'd been checking to see if our missing person Jeffrey Trewl had done any private consulting work for people. He thought it might give a possible line on him. He asked if the Bureau could check too, since we have Trewl's computer here and a couple of hard drives."

Steve nodded his understanding, wanting to urge her on so he could get back to his own case.

"Well, I did like he asked, and it turned up something very interesting." The eager sparkle in Viv Johnson's eyes was clear even over the slight ghosting interference of their connection.

"Our search pinged on three names you'll know...Jeffrey Trewl has done work for your three murder victims."

"_What?_"

"Given time, the bureau's cyber searches will pick up on any past or current cases...Names, places, businesses..." Johnson explained. "It's pretty clear that Jeffrey Trewl built the websites of all three of the men killed. Their names set alarm bells ringing. I understand it's your unit who are investigating?"

Chin and Kono had moved to stand alongside Steve. Kono's fingers flew over the desk and brought up the websites of all three men's businesses, each different but each very professionally produced.

"He's tied to the victims?" Kono whispered incredulously.

"When did he do this work?" Steve demanded. His heart was pounding with the revelation..._What the hell?_...

"Apparently, when he was a kid. Just a teenager. Everyone says he was a computer genius even then. He must have done it to earn himself some money."

"Send us everything you've got..."

"I'll send you everything we've got..."

Steve and Viv Johnson spoke over each other.

Steve was distracted, his thoughts racing ahead. He needed to understand what this meant and moved to end the call.

"Thanks..."

"No, wait!" she called out. "There's more..."

Steve, Chin and Kono braced themselves and waited.

"Once our computer experts got a line on your three victims, it was easier to follow various other trails, kinda opened the pathways leading to and from them...or, I should say, to and from their computers."

"And where did they go," Steve demanded.

"Russia. They'd all received money from accounts originally held in Russia..."

"Their get rich quick scheme..." Chin muttered.

Vivienne Johnson was shaking her head and interrupted. "No, no. It wasn't _their_ scheme...it was Jeffrey Trewl's. Seems _he_ set up the transfers of money in their names. Millions and millions of dollars were diverted from some very interesting accounts at the other end."

"Interesting how?" Steve growled out, but he already had a bad feeling he knew the answer.

"Interesting because they're accounts the Bureau tries to keep tabs on anyway. That's how the system pinged so quickly. Well, once your Detective Williams prompted it anyway. They belong to a well know Russian crime boss."

Steve took a breath to steady himself, soaking in the implications. Not just one but two cases had just been blown wide open. His thoughts leapt to his partner.

It seemed Danny may not be the only one searching for Jeffrey Trewl. He was also a likely target for the Russian Mafia.

**TBC.**..


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Angst makes way for action - hope you'll enjoy.

**Summary: **Danny is in danger but he's the only one who doesn't know just how bad it is.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

Danny had been threatened plenty of times in his life. Fists, knives, dogs, hypodermics, weird weapons of all descriptions, including a Japanese Shuriken, and then there was that poisonous snake waved in his face by a psycho pet trader. And of course, there were also the guns. _Too many guns!_ He'd had guns drawn on him by gangsters, robbers, terrorists, convicted murderers, drunks, addicts and adolescent kids. Hell, once even by a naked female impersonator who'd completely misunderstood his intentions at the time.

Since joining Five-0, the threats had become even more commonplace, for which he usually, and vociferously, blamed Steve McGarrett. This was the third time this week alone. Danny accepted the near fatal fault of that first time on the quayside as his own, but not this time, not now. _Damn, I need a pay rise!_ he thought indignantly. He had enough experience to recognize the level of threat he faced when someone wanted to kill him, especially when they helpfully warned him verbally first.

A quaking, uncertain voice was a dead give-away.

Without hesitation, spinning fast and ducking low, Danny rammed an elbow out sideways and grabbed at the fisted weapon held next to his ear with his left hand, twisting hard and yanking it violently upwards. As he rose with it, he butted his head into the face that was on its way down. He was rewarded with a loud screech of pain and surprise. With his right hand, he dug his own gun hard into the flesh of his captive's now exposed neck.

"Drop it!"

The weapon clattered onto the stone floor immediately and Danny glared down at the hunched, squirming back underneath him.

"Ow! Ow! D-don't!" The voice squeaked weakly.

Danny eased his grip on the arm he'd been holding up at a right angle and the young man straightened slowly, massaging his shoulder. Danny glared at him.

"Jeffrey Trewl," he growled. "So nice to finally meet you."

Jeffrey turned around with eyes wide behind his crooked glasses.

Danny was shaking his head incredulously at the guy's idiotic actions. "I'm a cop. Did you not _hear_ me telling you? I was shouting it plenty loud enough. I'm a _cop_. When a cop tells you to come out, you come out. I could have killed you for that stunt. What the hell are you thinking?"

"I thought you...I-I didn't mean..." he stammered.

Jeffrey's eyes flicked up the stairs and back to Danny.

"I-I'm sorry. I wasn't sure, okay? I-I couldn't be sure."

"Well, I'll tell you something you can be sure of...vacation's over, Jeffrey. I've wasted too much time looking for your sorry ass." Danny was furious, his nerves drawn tight, and his frustration bubbling over. "Get up there."

He shoved Trewl towards the staircase and, grabbing the gun he'd dropped, he wedged it into the back of his waistband, and followed him up.

In the shining bright, white kitchen, they turned to contemplate each other once more. Trewl was pale and anxious. He shuffled from one foot to another under the detective's scrutiny and fingered at the red bruise already appearing where Danny's brow had connected with his.

"You know, there've been people looking for you, Jeffrey."

The guy's eyes widened again and Danny saw a flash of something more than ordinary fright.

"Your father, Jeffrey," he explained. "The freakin' FBI, and _me..." _He thumbed his own chest indignantly. "Me Jeffrey. I have much, _much _better things to be doing right now than this, but instead I've been tracking your sorry ass. Just because, what, you fancied a little sun? A nostalgic trip back to a place that doesn't even belong to you? What? And then you go and pull a fucking gun on me." He shook his head again at the ridiculous situation.

Jeffrey was looking around him and Danny couldn't help but wonder why the guy was so spooked, unless he feared he was going to be arrested for trespassing. Well, Danny fully intended to do just that to pay him back for his troubles.

"Hello?"

A female voice was calling tentatively from somewhere behind them and they both turned. It came from the front room.

"Hello...Detective Williams? Is that you?"

An Hawaiian woman stepped cautiously into view. She was in her mid sixties, short and dark and a little overweight in that comfortable way that suggested a certain contentment with life. Her present demeanor didn't fit that impression however. Danny instantly recognized her from the smiling picture in the welcoming introduction of the brochure he'd consulted so much that day, but she looked different now.

"Mrs Hagino?"

Danny and Jeffrey asked it together. Danny glanced over and realized that the man beside him would of course remember his mother's former employer from when he was a kid.

"Mrs Hagino, what are you doing here?...I told you, you needn't come...Why..." Danny began. He held his hands out to placate her. Somehow, she seemed to she need it. Unlike in her photo, and belying the cheeriness of the voice he'd heard from her over the phone yesterday, she looked ..._terrified. _Danny frowned in confusion.

"Th-they say you have to come out...They say, you have to bring Jeffrey with you..." she whispered.

There were tears in her wide eyes and Danny realized the woman was trembling where she stood, rooted to the spot.

"What? Mrs Hagino, who are you talking abou...?"

But she was turning and nervously backing away from them now. Danny and Jeffrey followed her gaze over her shoulder, drawn forwards instinctively into the living area to look outside.

There were now two helicopters there.

..._Must have landed while I was downstairs._..

The new addition, its rotas still slowly turning, was larger than Sam's...

_Sam! _

Danny's heart thudded hard with shock.

_What the Hell!..._

Six men stood ranged out in front of the villa. All held fully automatic sub machine guns in their hands. Two of them stood aside and little further back, one with his weapon aimed directly at Sam as she pressed herself against her aircraft in fear.

"Oh my God!" Jeffrey gasped.

"Th-they said I had to come in and...and get you to come out," the woman whispered. "Or...or they'll kill her." Her words ended on a pitiful sob.

"Who the hell are th..." Danny's urgent query cut off abruptly as he saw movement and, in that instant, he knew disaster was about to strike.

Sam had moved. A tiny step to the side, a grab for something. Maybe she thought she had a chance for a radio, or a gun perhaps. Danny couldn't see but the man in front of her did. From inside the building, from a distance of a hundred yards, Danny knew immediately that it was a fatal mistake.

Sam was thrown back against the chopper and splayed out like a marionette, jerked about and horribly contorted, as a spray of bullets tore across her in wide bloody arcs.

_Oh God, no_!

From within the vacuum of his double glazed grandstand, from his distance, Danny could barely even hear the rapid fire of the weapon or the scream that undoubtedly came from Sam's gaping mouth, but he saw the look of horror on her face as she was practically cut in two. Her blood spattered up against the side panel of the helicopter and then it, and she, blew up, as a bullet hit the fuel tank and the terrible scene dissipated into a ball of fire.

Shocked and still uncomprehending, Danny flinched back from what he'd witnessed and the flash of the blast. Some of the men outside were thrown down, others forced to duck too, crouching to protect themselves from the intense heat and Danny knew there was no time.

"**Move!**"

There was a second of silence as he turned and grabbed Mrs Hagino, then the wall of glass windows exploded and the world became pure noise and terror.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

No answer. No answer on Danny's satellite phone or his cell. Nothing on the radio either.

"What was their last location then?" Steve demanded.

The air traffic controller was trying to help but it was all too little, too slow and too late. They had no contact, no way to warn them.

"Sam called in from an islet off Kaula at fourteen hundred," Steve relayed, as the controller told them what he could. With the line still open, he, Kono and Chin scanned the map of the islands displayed in front of them. "She said they'd be heading back in a couple of hours but didn't give the route they'd be taking." Steve told them.

It must have been the time when he last spoke to Danny too. Inwardly, Steve cursed himself for not asking more but forced himself to stay focused.

As a pilot himself, Steve knew the big companies, running regular island hopping tours, were required to set and keep to flight plans, but small private contractors were not quite so restricted. Hawaii was made up of more than a hundred and fifty separate islands, ranging from the largest, U'ahu, to the smallest dots of land and rock which remained uninhabited and difficult to reach. Like the ferries, aircraft were used like buses, with timetables to match but, equally, there were always hundreds of smaller, unscheduled flights happening, skipping about in short jumps, under the radar and now, it seemed, untraceable.

"But there's got to be a signal, right?" Steve demanded down the phone. "You _can_ trace the route from that last contact..."

Chin and Kono watched as Steve paced back and forth, running his hand over his face as he listened to the explanation being given to him.

"...Nothing?"

Steve was feeling sick with building worry. In his constitution that manifested itself in the rigid set of his muscles and taught jaw. Chin and Kono knew the signs and shared his concerned thoughts. Why would Danny be out of contact unless there was trouble?

"Well, there has to be a beacon though. That chopper will have a beacon fitted, right? For if it goes down..." Steve demanded and again he listened. Again his hopes failed. The beacon was not working, it was dead. There was nothing. Then came the final blow.

"What do you mean, adverse weather?"

The team turned to stare out of the bullpen window. The sky was deep gray and drizzle was being blown hard against the glass. Below them, the palm trees flapped wildly and people hustled for cover. As Islanders, they all recognized the weather of the trade winds and knew what it meant.

Steve ended the call and turned in exasperation to the others to deliver the news.

"If we can't identify exactly where they might be in the next hour we won't be able to fly to find them. All aircraft are going to be grounded."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

A million tiny glass crystals flew inwards as the panes firstly shattered, then crashed to the ground. The din was deafening and Danny instinctively closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders against it, and against the iridescent shards that flew towards them, hitting them and slicing into them.

He heard Rosalie Hagino scream and blindly reached out a hand to drag her flat to the floor, pulling her closer. He hardly dared lift his head but peered back just as the first explosion of glass died down. There was another momentary hiatus, like the dramatic pause when the curtains open before a show, then the next cacophony began.

Hundreds of rounds of non-stop automatic fire raked across the front of the building, splitting window and door frames, smacking into walls, pulverizing the wooden steps and the lanai until the posts that held it collapsed and the roof dropped with a scream of timber. It didn't stop the gun men who Danny glimpsed still standing a few meters away, but he recognized a chance as their vision was obliterated for a moment.

Gripping the woman's wrist tightly, he rose and shoved her ahead of him. She was slow and unco-ordinated, slipping and screaming. Hunching over behind her, Danny tried to shield her as they scurried frantically for the cover of a heavy ornate sofa. Pushing her down, he slid sideways behind it, just as bullets gouged into the plumped silk cushions. Feathers, foam and bright scraps of fabric spewed into the air, along with the thousands of splinters of wood being thrown up, split into tiny flying daggers, tearing into the bespoke, expensively hand-crafted furniture.

Ornaments disintegrated, mirrors smashed, books were shredded. The tasteful paintings on the cool white walls were shot through, punctured by lines of bullet holes like ragged and perforated coupons. A tall vase was obliterated next to them, its elegant design left as no more than a cloud of floating powder. The massive dark dining table and chairs were chopped to pieces within a minute.

Danny thought his head would explode with the noise. It reverberated through him and he felt the needle sharp sting of flying debris across his back, but he could not stop.

Pushing Rosalie on, he saw the feet of Jeffrey Trewl scrabbling away towards the kitchen in front of them and they followed. Glass crunched beneath their hands and knees and Danny could see larger pieces of wood beginning to fall. The house was going to come down on top of them. He rose up a little to try to protect Rosalie, ushering her on as she sobbed and slipped.

A sharp blow at his side sent him sprawling on top of her. White hot agony flashed through him and Rosalie shrieked in panic. Rolling to the side, he reached down to where the pain had hit and something else struck the side of his head and neck. Danny instinctively lifted a hand to the latest burn to find it covered in blood..._Notime-notime-notime..._

"**Move! Move! Move!**" he screamed.

The glass roof of the corridor was falling. Jagged pieces dropped around them and on them as they scrambled on, crunching over more glass all over the floor. The thunderous wall of sound enveloped them.

"**Go!**"

Jeffrey was huddled in the corner of the kitchen now, frantically pulling at the disguised wine cellar door. When it opened, he launched himself down the stairs like a ship down a slipway. Pushing at Rosalie, Danny had no time for propriety.

"Go!"

He shoved against her backside to force her down too. She cried out as she tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap against Jeffrey when she reached the bottom.

Everything was instinctual. No fight, pure flight. Their movements and actions were all simply about survival, but as he crawled after them, Danny had a fleeting moment of doubt, that this could be a bad decision. However, as the rounds smashed through the last of the wooden pillars of the living area behind them and the room caved in with an ear-splitting crash, he also knew they had no choice.

He pulled the door closed behind him and snapped the bolts across top and bottom.

"Pass that up here!" he shouted, gesturing at a wooden crate on the floor below. Still untangling themselves, the two others were too disorientated and shocked to obey.

"Hey! That crate...push it up here...**Now!**" he bellowed.

Between them, they hurriedly hauled the crate to the steps and up to Danny. Struggling in the confined space of the narrow, enclosed stairwell, he manoeuvred himself around it and pushed it against the door, wedging it hard up under the metal handle, grunting with the effort.

The noise of the attack could still be heard but it was muted down here and Danny finally took what felt like his first shaking breath since the shooting began. Resting his head against the crate, he fought to suck in oxygen. The action made pain flare up his side, sharp and spreading. He hissed against it, resisting the time it would take to look at the damage. Instead, he turned to find Jeffrey was already making for a far corner.

"There's a delivery hatch over here," he shouted.

Danny stumbled down the steps and shoved aside a pile of boxes, getting to the hatch even before Jeffrey. Another set of heavy bolts was the only lock but, reaching up, his hands were trembling and bloody and his fingers slipped before finally getting enough grip to slide them open.

The opening, at shoulder height, was designed for the delivery of wine crates being handed down from the outside. Danny dragged a crate over and boosted Jeffrey up first.

"No, no, no, no, no..." Mrs Hagino was holding her hands to her face and crying hysterically at the thought of going outside again.

_Notime-notime-notime-notime _Danny's heart beat out the terrible urgency.

"C'mon," he shouted at her. "We have to get out of here."

She was shaking her head and couldn't move. He stepped to her side and drew in an unsteady breath, trying to calm himself enough to calm her. He reached out a hand to her arm and lowered his voice.

"Look, lady...Mrs Hagino...Listen to me. Please, we have to go..._now_. We _have_ to go," he pleaded.

Danny's expression showed his desperation. Blood coated the side of his face, trickling down his neck, but his blue eyes, bright even in the gloom of the cellar, conveyed strength and determination. He was her only hope. She nodded and allowed him to help her quickly up onto the crate. Standing behind her, Danny lifted her up to the opening, where Jeffrey's hands reached back to pull her out .

Danny hoisted himself after them, gritting against the pain that pierced him again and blossomed with the effort. His skin pulled at numerous cuts and blood and sweat blurred his vision. His ears were still ringing but he hesitated for a brief second to listen.

Clearly, the assault was still not over. It seemed the gunmen had an endless supply of ammunition and were happy to use it. The stutter of gunfire from the front of the villa continued, along with the repetitive crack and crash of the destruction it was wreaking within. As he hauled himself out and sprinted off across a small courtyard at the back and then a narrow dirt track, Danny hoped that was a good sign.

Stumbling into the rainforest beyond he realized, with a lurch of bitter bile at the memory of her death, that the smoke from Sam's burning helicopter would also provide them some cover. Their attackers didn't know they were gone yet but the advantage wouldn't last long. Now they just had to stay alive and hope they didn't follow ..._whoever the hell they are!._

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

"Aslan Baiev. He's our assassin."

Since the Russian Mafia connection had been revealed, Chin had been going through the FBI's most-wanted list with their only witness so far. Tony Hoy identified Baiev as the man who'd slipped into his store and bought himself a silencer. It struck Steve as odd that such an alleged professional would be caught without the right weaponry. His photo and information was now on the screen but Chin quickly outlined the salient points.

"Chechen. Born in Grozny. Fought against Russia in the first war when the CIA became aware of him in '95. He started out as a freedom fighter but he is definitely not driven by any kind of political cause any more. In fact, he switched sides. By the time the second war happened there, four years later, he was nowhere to be seen, until he popped up on the Feds' radar, working for Vladimir Sokolov's criminal empire. It's one of the most powerful syndicates in Russia and Eastern Europe but they've expanded and now have a major hold in cities like New York and Los Angeles. Drugs, prostitution, guns, protection rackets...the works."

Chin nodded at the picture. "It seems Baiev's only principles now are for making money and he does it by killing. He's Sokolov's go-to guy for taking out enemies of the syndicate. And he's very good at it...suspected to be behind at least 24 murders."

"Sokolov is the Mafia boss, Jeffrey Trewl stole from?" Steve clarified. Chin confirmed it with a tap on the computer table that brought up the FBI file sent by Agent Johnson.

The Cyber Crimes Unit had been busy, their search patterns finally tracing the multi dimensional spider's web of encrypted networks. Trewl had sucked away the Russian funds via a madly circuitous route of computerized orders and accounts that went from the US to China, via a secondary server to India, the British Channel Islands and then Puerto Rico. Totally bypassing more usual financial havens, like the Cayman Islands, the student had managed to open a portal to theft on an immense scale and the Mafia could only have watched helplessly as their blood money disappeared. Steve wouldn't allow himself to be impressed. It was a frighteningly powerful motive for Mob revenge.

Steve's phone went and, reading the ID, he put it on speaker.

"What you got, Kono?"

On the other side of the island, Kono stood in the center of the offices of Palekaiko Villas, Letting Agents. 'Paradise begins here,' their motto was written in elaborate floral script on the wall. Beautiful pictures of the range of luxurious homes on offer to the extremely wealthy were the only other decoration.

"No sign of the owner who Danny spoke to, Rosalie Hagino. The office was open when I got here, deserted." She gazed around at some scattered papers and an overturned chair. "Looks like she might have been taken by force, Boss."

Steve looked up at Chin. "Baiev needed her to show him where she'd sent Danny and Sam."

"But she couldn't have any better idea of their route than we do," Chin reminded him. "It seems they were kind of making it up as they went along."

"Yeah, 'cause I told Danny to go and enjoy himself," Steve said, guilt weighing heavily on him.

"They may not have caught up to them," Kono chimed in. She desperately wanted to believe it. "We might still be able to reach them first."

"We'd better," Steve breathed. "Look, we know they were just off Kaula four hours ago. If Sam knew there was weather coming in, she would be wanting to head back here in plenty of time."

"Yeah, but Danny would have wanted to check as many places as possible," Chin pointed out. "He wanted to get back to the murder case." His eyes met Steve's as they again realized the cruel twist of fate that had put him right in the center of it.

They looked once more at the map of the islands with the villas highlighted on them. Separated from them, Kono could only listen in.

"There are maybe a couple of villas they could have stopped off at on the way back." Steve pointed at the sites. "It's got to be one of those." Sharp taps on the red dots brought up pictures and details of the properties. Both were several hours away.

"We've got to get out there."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

_Useless, unprofessional, pathetic hot-headed, idiots. _

Aslan Baiev cursed under his breath as he stood in front of the demolished building. To his right, the hissing blasts of fire extinguishers interrupted his irritated thoughts and he cursed them loudly too. If he hadn't ordered some of the men to put out the blaze, the flames and smoke would have been a beacon to anyone in the area and they didn't need company. It was using too much valuable time and they still had a job to do.

The three men scowled back as they stepped over blackened human fragments and fought to dampen the last smoldering remains of the Squirrel helicopter. The Chechen's invective was offensive to them and their country but they never dared retaliate. Baiev was not a man to cross.

He moved to the ruined house. It was entirely collapsed at the front, crumpled and bowed down as if in prayer. There was a sound of creaking timbers and the occasional tinkle of still falling glass. Vasily Rosanov came out, shaking his head with irritation.

Baiev preferred to work alone, after this he swore he always would, but he had joined with Rosanov on a couple of other jobs in the past and they respected each others' talents. The other, lowly, members of the team had been sent by Sokolov himself, as facilitators and back up, to remove cameras, ensure getaways, to strike additional fear. Sokolov wanted the Hawaiian murders to send a message to the world, he had ordered overkill in every sense. However, in this case, it had all been to no avail. The professionals knew this was a mess that needed to be cleaned up.

"Fuck!" Baiev had worked in the United States for many years and sometimes only an Anglo Saxon word would do. "Fuck!"

_How did they get away?...There were three of them in there, _he fumed to himself_. _Trewl, that cop and the woman he'd sent to get them out. He'd seen the movement of three figures before his idiot team mates, over excited by their massive armored power and the isolation of the place, had opened fire like something out of Pulp Fiction.

"Fuck!" He really hated losing his mark, especially when the rest of this job had gone so well.

Having efficiently dispatched the recipients of his boss's money in ways designed specifically to alert and terrorize the little thief, Trewl, this _should_ have been the easy part. Baiev had been looking forward to it. He always relished the look in his victims' eyes right before he ended their lives, when they knew that this was the end. He was furious at being denied the ultimate pleasure and their disappearance would make him look bad.

A shout went up from the back of the pile of timber and glass, and Baiev and Rosanov walked around. The rest of the men slowly gathered there too, looking from the wide open escape route to the darkness below them. The rain forest looked impenetrable but Baiev had made his name as a killer in tough terrain. Their quarry had a good head start but this was an island and they had nowhere to go.

Baiev gave his order in Russian for the benefit of the others.

"Grab your gear, we're going hunting."

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary: **Russian hit men, extreme terrain, civilians in trouble - Danny must dig deep and lead the escape. It's all downhill from here.

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><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

It was more falling than running. Desperation spurred them, momentum propelled them and it was only the thick vegetation that slowed them at all. Practically bouncing from tree to tree, they crashed down through the undergrowth like they were caught in some sort of crazy pinball machine.

Danny had hiked in the rainforest with Steve or for the job but usually on trails. Nothing he had seen before was as thick as this.

Lianas whipped at their faces and tall ferns tangled around their ankles and thighs. Light was low in here, barely filtering through the thick leaved canopy above and they struggled to see where they were going beyond the fact that the gradient sent them spilling onwards and ever downwards.

Desperately scrambling to keep upright, Danny was trying to keep his eyes on too many places. Trying to help Mrs Hagino as she slipped and slid and grasped at his arms; trying to ensure Trewl didn't get ahead..._Because I __**really**__ need some answers from you.._; trying to see back the way they'd come to assess when the threat would reappear. So distracted, Danny failed to avoid the trunk of the next tree in their downward flight and then he was simply trying not to scream.

Spun around, he fell hard against the huge buttress roots that spread out from the trunk's base. He slid down and doubled over, grasping at the pain that flared through his side, gasping for breath as the world whited out.

"Help me! Help me!"

Danny felt hands on his arms and his body was righted and pushed back. The incline of the slope was so steep that his feet seemed higher than his torso. His head fell back against the root.

"Help me with him."

He slowly became aware that it wasn't his own voice that was begging, though god only knew, he wanted to. The pain was sharp and piercing with his every gulp for air. Squinting up, the frightened face of Mrs Hagino loomed near his, swooping in and out of focus with each pounding thump in his head.

"Detective Williams, please, Detective Williams...That's it, careful now..." The woman's concern forced him to still.

Through blood blurred vision, he peered up next at Jeffrey Trewl standing beside him. He was looking up and back, scanning the deep vegetation that seemed to have swallowed them.

"O-okay..I-I'm okay," Danny gasped. He tried pushing up from the ground, desperate to keep moving but felt firm hands on his shoulders as he was forced back again.

"No. You're not." There was no room for argument in the woman's voice. "Just... just take a moment and let me see here."

Pushing aside his jacket, her hands pulled away his own. "Oh my God!" she gasped.

Looking down, Danny groaned too..._Shit!_ His hand was covered in blood and so was his side. His tee-shirt clung to his body with the wetness that had also spread down into the waistband of his jeans. Plucking at it with uncooperative fingers, he felt at the wound underneath, hissing at the instant stabbing pain that the tentative investigation elicited.

There was a ragged hole just above his waist, level with his lower ribs, driven between them. Holding his breath, he fingered at it and could trace a hard shape just a couple of inches in, beneath his hot skin..._Bone? Metal?...Shit!_

He'd been shot. Hit from behind in the chaos of the villa attack.

The pain burned and his vision tunneled as he tried to stay calm. Peering down, he couldn't actually see the entrance of the wound, it was too far back, and for a second he was uncertain what to do.

_Huh,_ _Steve would probably just stick his fingers in there and pull it out,_ he thought blearily. The image of Steve doing just that brought a jolt of despair... _God, I wish you were here. I'm in trouble, I need you, man. _

"We have to stop the bleeding." Mrs Hagino's shaky voice cut through Danny's thoughts and she stepped away, stooping over and fiddling with her dress.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," Trewl whined anxiously, still staring back up the steep hill.

"Wait," she insisted. "Just wait. We have to help him."

Danny shifted and raised a bloody hand to the pain that also seared in his head and across his ear and neck. He knew he needed a few moments. But damn, he also needed answers.

"Who the hell are they, Jeffrey?"

His voice was surprisingly loud, considering how weak he felt. Amidst the chatter of birds, Danny's question seemed to bring a hush, as he and Mrs Hagino stared at Trewl.

He glanced rapidly from one to the other, avoiding their eyes guiltily, as if still resisting the acknowledgment that this perilous situation was anything to do with him, clearly nervous of their response.

"I-I think they're Russian mob hit men," he whispered. "They want to kill me."

"No kidding!" Danny huffed, then grunted at the pain it caused. He sipped a breath. "And why would they want to do _that_, Jeffrey?"

Trewl pressed down agitatedly on the numerous shallow cuts the broken glass had made on his arms. More showed on his neck and cheekbone. His shaking hands traced them and he looked around desperately as though he might try to take off.

"Jeffrey! What did you do?"

If Danny was going to die, he really, _really_ wanted to know why.

"I-I took some of their money, alright?" he answered. "Their drugs killed my friend, they took her life...So I, I took their money."

The absurdity of it hung in the air.

"You _stole_ from the Mob?" Danny wondered if his injuries were affecting his understanding but his incredulous demands were interrupted.

"Here."

Danny felt Mrs Hagino's hands against his side as she firmly pressed a wad of white material to his wound. He couldn't prevent a cry of pain at the pressure and his world swam again.

"Sorry, sorry," she murmured as she hurriedly wound a strip around him.

He looked down as she tore another piece to bunch against his head and neck. Their eyes met.

"It's my slip," she explained quietly. She was wearing a pink floral mu'umu'u, the traditional style long Hawaiian dress hanging loosely from her shoulders. "At my age, I need a little extra coverage."

For her benefit, Danny mustered a weak grin at that. He knew the woman must be terrified but she was clearly made of strong stuff. He may have shielded her from the worst of the onslaught at the villa but her arms also showed a number of cuts and scrapes from their mad flight through the brush and trees. Her dress was already torn and her bare legs were dirty. She wore floral slippers and, now that he'd noticed them, Danny was amazed she'd managed to run as she had... _I have to get us out of here._

"Thanks." He took the material she was dabbing against the worst of his own cuts. He knew he was in a more serious condition than the others.

The talk of hit men and the Mob had set his mind reeling, spinning back over the incidents of the past week but there was no time for any further explanations, they had to get moving again. His sat phone had gone up with the chopper. They had no communications and no transport and the Russian Mob were after them..._How the hell did this become my life?..._

Danny reached up and the others moved to help him stand. Swaying a little, and fighting to bring the world back into focus, he spoke urgently now.

"We need a plan. We've got to get out of here. You guys know this place. How do we get off."

"The jetty..." Jeffrey began but Danny immediately cut in.

"They'll cover that and there's no way we can get to it without them seeing us. Too open. It was the only proper trail I saw from the chopper. They'd be on us right away." He waved his hand in encouragement of other ideas.

Mrs Hagino made a small, uncertain noise. "I think th-there's another...Small, hidden...I seem to remember fishermen used to use it sometimes." Her lined face crinkled with fearful concentration as though she was trying to picture it. "That's right isn't it, Jeffrey?" she asked the young man fidgeting anxiously beside them.

"Yeah!" He nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I think there used to be a boat kept there when I was a kid and a hut with a radio." His voice lifted with quick hope.

"Where? Can you get us there from here?" Danny demanded.

"It's on the northern point. We're on the right side at least," Mrs Hagino responded. "But...it's so far...In this, it's too far..." She looked anxiously down at the thick rainforest that still fell away from them, so dense in places that it looked like a solid wall.

"No...no, we have to...I think, if we keep going down and then head north, we'll get to a gorge," Trewl said excitedly. "It runs part way down the windward side. I explored it when I was a kid. Camped out. I remember there's some kind of trail right on the shoreline. If we get down to that, we might be able to follow it around. We might be able to get to the boat, get away." He spoke faster and faster, wanting to get on. Again he glanced back up towards where they'd come from, from where their pursuers must soon be following.

"There's no way they'd know about it," he guessed finally.

Danny tried to recollect the map he'd seen of the island they were on, tried to conjure the details he'd seen from the air. From where they'd left the villa at the top, he estimated their descent was taking them north east already, although in this terrain it was nearly impossible to hold a straight course. The main jetty was a long way in the opposite direction, and he still believed it would be the most obvious place the gunmen would look for them. Their only hope was the alternative landing, _if_ it was still there.

Struggling to control his breathing, he became aware that the others were watching him, waiting for his direction. Holding a hand out to steady himself against the tree, Danny gritted his teeth and finally, painfully forced himself to move again.

"Let's go..."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Steve and Chin ran hard down the gated pontoon at Honolulu's marina, their feet thudding loudly as the surface bucked under them. Pausing only briefly to fling their holdalls aboard, they leapt down into the two launches tied there, engines already revving loudly, exhaust fumes surrounding them in a cloud.

Steve held up the satellite phone he had in his hand, then gestured to the radio at his belt as he called across to the other boat.

"Chin! Keep in touch. You see anything..._anything!_ Let me know."

Chin nodded. "You too," he called back.

He took in his boss's grim determination, the tight line of his mouth and the rigid set of his jaw. He'd seen him like this before. Whenever Five-0 readied themselves for a big operation, Commander Steve McGarrett took over from Friend Steve McGarrett. It could happen in the blink of an eye. He imagined this was how his SEAL team saw him too, before each of their own missions. McGarrett was the consummate hardened military professional.

In Steve's eyes however, Chin saw something else as well. It was the same look he'd seen when Steve's sister had been kidnapped; when he'd gone after Hesse for killing his father; when the Governor was revealed to be a traitor working with Wo Fat, the man who'd ordered that hit. It was dark and dangerous – it was for his family, his ohana. This was for Danny.

Each launch had a uniformed officer already aboard, kitted out in standard issue waterproof jackets and life preservers. Steve had briefed them over the phone. Sakata and Dole were both good men, used to the islands' waters and weather. Grim faced, they waited for his order and when it came, within seconds, ropes were slipped and the engines gunned. The bows of the two vessels lifted high as they roared out of the marina together, leaving parallel wakes behind them.

Steve felt the familiar thrust of power beneath his feet and braced himself against the side of the cockpit to shield himself from the buffeting wind. This was going to be a hell of a ride.

Looking out to sea, he cursed the vagaries of the island conditions again.

The drizzle soaking Honolulu was thick cloud further out, where a dark bank of solid gray now obliterated the horizon. He knew it would be obscuring the islands ahead completely. Most of the time, Hawaii enjoyed the warmest and most beautiful weather, but not always. This was the worst possible time for it to change.

When it had become clear that they could not conduct an air search, Steve's first call had been to the coastguard. He knew the Admiral in Command well but his hopes had been quickly dashed there too .

"I'm sorry Steve, really I am, but we're committed...part of Operation Blackbird. Can't do it."

Operation Blackbird – the long planned, intricately detailed, high security operation surrounding the imminent arrival of The President of the United States to the State of Hawaii. Steve had been a party to it, even though Five-0 were not directly involved. After months of preparation, with hundreds of police officers involved and with just hours to go, nothing would be allowed to disrupt the plan, except a natural disaster or a direct threat to the President himself.

So far, Steve could still only positively say that one of his team was 'missing,' 'out of contact,' not that he was _definitely_ in danger, despite the ache of absolute certainty in his gut that told him so.

Even though they had a witness claiming to have seen Baiev, their case was still largely based on suposition and circumstantial evidence. There was no way the coastguard vessels, so integral to the Presidential visit security plan, could be re-routed at this short notice, no matter how much Steve needed them.

The HPD's Marine Patrol Unit had been his next call but even that had proved difficult.

With seven hundred and fifty miles of coastline to cover, the unit had many resources but with no positive proof of a crime actually underway and facing extra outside pressures, the Chief of Police had refused to sign off on more than two launches. Steve had broken a phone after that particular call. He would not wait.

As a SEAL, Steve was used to larger US Marine Corps assault vessels but the MPU's nine meter long launches could still cover great distances at speed. Now, their powerful twin diesel engines roared as the pilots drove them on hard through the swell.

He glanced down at this watch. They were already losing light and the two islands they were targeting were still hours away. Turning his face to the spray, he closed his eyes and drew in the cleansing air. All his life, whatever the conditions, the sea had always calmed him, settled his whirling thoughts and brought him clarity. The cold sting of salt water did so now.

"Hang on Danno," he muttered into the whipping wind. "We're coming."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Beneath the dripping canopy, it was hard to keep track of time.

Danny leaned heavily against a tree and stared upwards to the single tiny patch of deepening cloud he could make out amidst the ever moving, spinning patterns of leaves and boughs overhead. He tried to still the hypnotic effect in his mind but his vision whirled on. Drips splashed onto his face, running backwards into his hair, as a dread seeped into his heart.

He'd gradually become aware that rain had been falling. In trickling pathways, meandering down veins and stems and stalks, it permeated the thick leafy ceiling above them, but it wasn't one of the tropical downpours he'd experienced before. No, for them, this was worse.

This was the weather Sam had been warning of, the weather when there could be no flying... _Ergo, no flying rescue_...He smiled to himself at the thought of how a little latin thrown into a conversation always seemed to amuse Steve. Sometimes he really enjoyed surprising his partner. For the hundredth time he wished he was there.

Exhausted and hurting, Danny really wasn't sure how much further he could go. Having slipped and slid down the steep slope for more than two hours, now they were faced with another challenge. Ahead of them, a rocky escarpment loomed out of the greenery. Upwards..._Christ!_

"This just keeps getting better," Danny mused aloud to himself.

"I can't climb that."

Mrs Hagino, voiced his own doubts in a small voice that sounded desperate and winded. She clutched a fist to her chest. Danny had noticed her doing it before, even as he'd helped her along. She turned to him now with pleading eyes. "I don't think I can do it. I-I have angina."

Jeffrey Trewl was already ahead, already beginning to clamber up the lower part of the craggy wall. Unhampered by age or serious injury, he was pulling away.

"Hey!" Danny called out. "Hey... get back here, right now!" He ordered, trying to ignore the pain it caused him to shout.

Trewl looked back and hesitated. "Don't you make me come over there and get you." Danny warned.

"You must have kids," Rosalie Hagino noted quietly, recognizing his parental tone and looking over at the blond Detective as they waited for Jeffrey to resentfully return to them.

"Yeah," he muttered back to her with a thin smile. "Luckily, my daughter ...never realizes it's a pretty shallow threat either." His speech was broken as he was finding it harder to breath and Danny knew for sure that he would not be able to catch up to Trewl, if he did decide to go it alone.

He surveyed the rocky climb ahead and addressed the younger man. "You sure this is the only way to go? It's risky...At least we've got cover down here, we're gonna be pretty open up there." Danny wasn't even confident he could trust Trewl's directions.

Jeffrey nodded. "We have to go up to get down into the gorge. If not here, then further down."

They all stood in silence for a moment.

"Okay," Danny decided. "But _you're_ gonna help Mrs Hagino here. We've got to stick together." He turned to the woman beside him.

"It's the only way... We'll take it steady. Better we do it now...when we can see where we're climbing, it's going to be completely dark soon."

She took in his appearance. Hunched over, he held his right arm tightly against his side, hiding the extent of bleeding beneath his jacket. Where she could see it, blood and sweat had mixed to streak the front of his shirt a dirty pink and matted the longer strands of his blond hair, hanging wildly now around his torn right ear.

She had heard him gasping, seen him wincing. The pain he was in showed in every line of his expressive face, in every pulse of his gritted jaw, but she knew he was trying hard to hide it. For her.

Danny had been a steadying hand to her as they'd stumbled along, encouraging her, urging her, doing his best to push obstacles out of her way, pulling her back and slowing her falls, as the hillside tipped them forwards and down. Always down, down, down, until now.

The pains in her chest frightened her but she straightened up. As an athletic young girl she'd scampered easily over island hills like this, she could do it again. For him, she'd try.

"Okay Detective Williams, lead on," she said. "But one thing..." His blue eyes still sparkled as he looked at her, waiting. "_Please _stop calling me Mrs Hagino."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

"Uploading to you now, Boss." Kono's voice crackled through the speaker at the top of the console, as Steve tapped at the computer screen below it.

"These pictures were taken on CCTV at the airport," she continued. "Like you said, once we knew we were looking for Russian Mafia, it was easier. Facial recognition came up trumps, we have proof. The guy in the center is definitely Aslan Baiev. He arrived here from Los Angeles a week ago on a fake passport." Steve stared at the grainy black and white footage. It showed the busy scene of baggage reclaim. An FBI still of Baiev appeared alongside for comparison and in the sharp features and cold eyes, Steve could see the match.

The picture changed quickly, to a different angle on a different carousel.

"Like we thought, he's not alone. This was taken the day after. Guy with the baseball cap is Vasily Rosanov." Another clear FBI still appeared on half the screen, showing the heavy brow, hooded eyes and beard of the same man, but without the hat. "He's another known hit man for the Sokalov family. Apparently, he's worked with Baiev before, also believed to have murdered at least fifteen people. They're both crack shots."

"So we know now there are at least two of them," Steve said, catching the eye of the launch's pilot who was listening in. Officer Bryan Sakata licked at his lips nervously. He was a cop with ten year's service under his belt and he knew of Five-0's reputation but this was more than he usually had to deal with.

At Headquarters, Kono nodded at the radio set she was addressing as though Steve was right there with her.

"Yeah, they're the main players for sure but it looks like there are more. I traced a charter company who rented a helicopter to five men with foreign accents. Said they were taking a tour of the islands. They also had their own pilot – turns out his license was in a fake name. The manager is coming in to look at photos but from what he's already told me, two of them could well have been Baiev and Rosanov and when they turned up at the airfield, they also had a woman with them who fits the description of the letting agent, Rosalie Hagino. Looks like they did take her to show them where to go."

"And they got in the air before the weather hit. Shit!" Steve cursed.

Kono ran her hand back through her long hair. Her investigations had taken hours, they were vital but she was frustrated now that she was stuck on dry land and not with her team mates.

Steve knew exactly how she would be feeling and sympathized. "Good work, Kono."

"If the chopper rental guy gives solid confirmation and if we can ID any of the others, I'll let you know." She paused, then added hopefully. "You think with these positive sightings, we'll finally get more HPD help?"

In the launch, Steve also recognized the irony of their dire situation. His partner's familiar nagging voice echoed in his head from so many other dangerous times, times they'd faced together..."_For God's sake, Steven, you are not a one-man army...Wait for back-up!" _This time they'd tried to do just that but the odds just kept on stacking against them.

"Keep at 'em, Kono. Just keep at 'em," he urged.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Danny was trembling by the time he neared the top of the escarpment, his whole body shaking with the effort as he sought out foot and finger holds in the rocks. He tensed against the agony he knew it was going to cause, then forced his weight up again, pushing with legs that felt like rubber, pulling with arms that screamed with the hot pain of cuts widened and stretched by the strain of his muscles.

A step, a reach, a pull. A step, a reach, a pull.

He pressed his face against the wet rock and clenched his jaw against the burn consuming him. Forcing open his tightly shut eyes he turned them upwards, trying to judge the distance left in this particular torture. It was harder and had taken longer than they'd thought and now the edge of the rocks were barely visible against a dark starless sky, but they were close.

..._Please God!...One step...one more...another...another..._He coaxed himself, forced himself on, until, at last, his grasping fingers finally clawed over a different surface. The rocks were flat here, horizontal not vertical, and Danny inched himself over the jagged lip, hissing against the scraping it caused the wound on his side.

He fell flat and the blackness of the sky blurred into the blackness of his consciousness as he lay gasping. He felt himself rolled and dragged forwards and weakly tried to resist until whispered encouragements made their way through the wavering static filling his ears.

"Come on...over here...just a bit further."

Finally he was still. The others had pulled him to lean up against yet another tree, its gnarly surface dug against his back. Through slitted eyes he saw them crouched beside him, both also trying to catch their breath after the climb.

They were at the edge of an open patch of wet rock, the steep escarpment they'd scaled on one side, yet more dense rainforest dropping away on the other. The mad slope they'd descended before was hidden by the night and by the blanket of thick mist that clung against the hillside like a shroud. At another time, in clear daylight, their current resting place might have been a good vantage point but not now. Still, Danny recognized with relief that if _they_ couldn't see much, then neither could anyone else who might be following. He let out a long slow breath, pressing his hand against his side and the movement of his damaged ribs.

"We need to rest," he rasped.

"No! No, no, we have to keep going." Jeffrey responded immediately. He was still puffing from his own exertions but Danny could see he was already shifting anxiously, wiping off his wet glasses and shoving them back on. "Th-they'll be coming."

Danny shook his head and gestured weakly around with his hand. "They can't see any more than us right now." He halted to compose himself and to try to pull in some more air. "It was bad enough before in that f-forest...we won't be able to see anything at all once we get down there in that gorge of yours."

"We can..."

"No," Danny asserted. "Look... at least from here, we stand a chance of hearing their approach..."

Jeffrey looked down at his watch and then down again at the thick vegetation they would have to fight through. Danny reached out a hand and gripped his forearm. "We _all_ need to stop..." He tilted his head to indicate the woman at their side.

Exhausted, Rosalie was pressing both of her hands to her chest once more, eyes scrunched as she desperately tried to slow her racing heartbeat. She was whispering to herself, frightened at the pressure she recognized squeezing behind her breastbone, terrified of their situation.

"Rosie," he said gently. "Hey, hey, Rosie...Take it easy, calm, just breath slow...slowly, that's it."

Danny felt so weak. The pain in his side had spread to meet others issuing outwards from his neck and shoulders, his arms and a long cut on his left thigh, but he felt the weight of responsibility that he couldn't escape. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"Rosie, we're gonna take a rest here...you with us?...It's gonna be okay, Rosie..."

She opened her eyes and they brimmed with tears as she nodded in gratitude while shivering with shock and effort. Danny pulled at his jacket and gasped again at the pain the movement caused.

"Help me," he ordered and Jeffrey moved to slip it off his shoulders, the material dragging against the many slivers of glass and wood still lodged in the lining and his flesh ..._Christ! _Danny thought he might just pass out from the stabbing sensation. Jeffrey saw the lining was coated with blood and he allowed Danny the time to pull his arms out slowly..._Christ!_

They all shuffled backwards, further into the cover of the edge of the forest that clung to their plateau. Danny leaned over to help Jeffrey place his jacket over Rosalie's back, tucking it in, one-handed, under her chin. She tried to smile but her quivering lips still betrayed her fears.

Her gray streaked hair curled damply against her cheeks, the white hibiscus flower she'd tucked so neatly behind her ear that morning, part of her careful routine for a day in the office, was now tangled upside down, torn and dangling at the very ends. Danny reached in to gently pull it out and she raised her own hands from her chest to pat self-consciously at her ruined hair-do.

"You're hurt, you should keep your jacket, keep warm," she said softly.

"S'okay, I'm too hot right now anyway," Danny insisted. "...That climb was a pretty good work-out..."

"More like you're getting a fever."

The rain had soaked them all but Rosalie knew the sheen of wetness on this man's face was something more. His eyes still gave her strength but there was a glaze in them too.

"Yeah, well getting shot will do that, I guess," Danny smiled. "Just try and rest, okay. We'll all take a rest, just for a little while."

He looked out into the dark and felt it pulling at him. He tried to push against it, forced his mind to find something positive to hook onto, something good to keep fighting for.

._..Grace... family... friends...Steve..._

Their images swirled in his head, blending into the question that pounded with each heartbeat... _How are we ever going to survive this? a_s Danny finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

**TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Thanks to all of you for reading and especially for reviewing. Your lovely comments have really been so encouraging. :)

**Summary: **Chin and Steve race to find Danny but there's a lot of ground to cover.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Chin held up his hand to cut the engine and the skipper, Sgt Gerrit Dole, steered their launch quietly alongside the slipway. Working only off hand signals, they both jumped silently ashore and quickly looped a rope around the nearest mooring, pulling their vessel tightly in to the stern of a rigid hull inflatable already tied up there. Another non-verbal check, and they began a jog up the incline of the dirt track in front of them, their weapons held at the ready.

From the sea, they had been unable to make out the long bungalow because of the low mist. Their maps showed that it was settled into the dunes, only a couple of hundred yards from the beach of this tiny private outcrop of land. The letting information advertized that proximity as the site's main attraction for families and they covered the ground rapidly.

A yellow glow appeared eerily out of the drizzle, then voices.

Chin held up his clenched fist and the pair stopped to listen. A girlish squeal, then a giggle and a muffled male laugh filtered through the background rush of the surf behind them. Glancing quickly at each other, Chin waved Dole forward and to the side, then the uniformed officer crouched to cover him, as he also also moved ahead carefully.

The bungalow, when it materialized, was a luxurious version of a traditional Hawaiian beach house. A fortune had clearly been spent in making it look expensively distressed. The washed out wooden frontage was salt and wind blown to look like an ancient fisherman's dwelling but Chin had relatives who made their living from the sea and they would never have been able to afford this. It was hung with ethnic wind chimes made from shells and corals, that tinkled as they danced and spun.

In common with all of the other properties that Danny had checked through the day, this one also had huge windows to look out over the beach. In the main room, there were no curtains to obscure the sea view and nothing to stop Chin seeing in either. Nothing to hide the two naked young lovers currently energetically making out on the embroidered rug at the room's center.

Ignoring the show, Chin glanced left and right before stepping up to the glass and tapping on it loudly with his badge.

"Five-0! We're coming in."

A scream and a scramble followed as the teenagers firstly, instinctively, wrapped themselves up in the rug, then frantically pulled on shorts and shirts, their clothes twisted and knotting in their panic. As Chin entered, determinedly hiding a grin, they stared at him with undisguised fear and red flushes that extended well down beyond their faces.

It took him just ten minutes to establish that the hysterical blond girl, Mia, was the eighteen year old daughter of a family who had rented the property a fortnight before. Her unsuspecting parents had no idea that she had made copies of all the keys, noted down the security codes and, having checked the bookings, set up her own private love nest to secretly return to with her long haired surfer boyfriend when she thought nobody would ever know.

Chin could admire her initiative but also warned the frightened young couple they would have to leave in the morning and were likely be prosecuted for trespass. He couldn't muster enough good will at this moment to be lenient. He left them clinging together in shocked embarrassment but with a sure feeling they would be getting right back to business as soon as he and Dole left, but now with the added frisson of forbidden excitement at their discovery.

There was however, clearly no sign of Danny, a computer genius or any Russian hit men at this location and, as he climbed back on board their launch, he called Steve to tell him so.

"We're still thirty minutes out from Hale Aouli," Steve responded and even on the satellite phone, Chin could still hear the tension in his boss's voice. They had to hope the other island would prove more successful but progress could be frustratingly slow against wind and waves. "Head this way and we'll keep you posted of anything we find."

As they set out again, Chin tucked himself down against the cold dampness of the night and stared out over the dark water. As his thoughts returned to their lost friend he had to fight the fear that this hunt may yet still all be for nothing.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Danny came to with a start of guilt. When he shifted, the thick darkness in his head melted apart and a guttural groan escaped as gray bled into the black. White sparks flashed behind his eyelids and he felt a wave of nausea building, mixing with the ripples of pain that were spreading through him and he swallowed hard to force it all away.

It took several attempts to blink into the distressing, renewed awareness that nothing had changed in the time he'd been out. Still night time. Still clinging to a hillside in a jungle. Still hurting..._And we've still got to escape_..._Shit!_ How he wished it had all been some horrible dream.

He turned his head sluggishly to where Rosalie Hagino was huddled to his right, apparently sleeping, and to Jeffrey Trewl who was sitting further over, separated from them. He was picking at leaves and shredding them into tiny pieces, while looking across at Danny with such intensity that the detective vaguely wondered if it was that alone that had brought him round.

"We have to go...Must go...We have to go..." he was hissing it over and over again, insistent and desperate... _Scared...Mad?..._

Danny braced himself and blew out a breath, gripping hard against his side as the bullet wound there flared. Trewl's eyes were wide and even in the deep gloom of mist and shadows, the tremors in his body were noticeable. Danny could see the guy was clearly close to breaking down..._or breaking away, _he thought. They couldn't afford for either of those things to happen. He knew he had to calm him.

"Okay...okay, we'll get going." Danny interrupted the litany and hoped he sounded stronger than he felt, but his voice rasped painfully

... _Christ, I'm thirsty..._ He realized, even though they were in a rainforest, hidden in rain clouds, none of them had drunk anything since their flight began. The thought brought an immediate intense need and he ran his tongue over his cracked lips, before forcing his wavering concentration back to the task in hand. He had to get Jeffrey out of his current panic attack, give him something else to think of ..._Because,_ _God help us, we're gonna need him..._

"We'll move okay, Jeffrey?" Danny reassured him again. "But man, before we do, just... just tell me more about how you got into this mess."

Jeffrey stilled in his leaf shredding.

"It was over a girlfriend?" Danny encouraged with a weak flap of a hand, flaking with the remains of drying blood.

"She wasn't my girlfriend," Jeffrey corrected quickly. "She was a friend. Just a friend. Emily her name was...She was nice to me when I moved into my apartment. We used to have coffee sometimes. Y'know, if our classes were out at the same time..." His voice was shaking and quiet and he came to a halt.

Danny wasn't sure he could muster the strength, or indeed the saliva, to keep asking questions to keep him on track, but now that he'd started, after a short silence, Jeffrey went on.

"She told me she only used drugs for partying, recreational y'know...she wasn't an addict." He spoke defiantly as if Danny had accused her of it, then sniffed and wiped his nose against the back of his hand. "She died of an overdose because the stuff she used was bad. I spoke to the cops and they said there was a bad batch on the streets." Jeffrey sobbed a laugh. "A bad batch!"

Danny didn't want to disturb the story but had to move to try to ease the pain thumping through his torso. Bending at the waist, he tried to keep eye contact, to encourage Jeffrey to keep talking.

"It was them who told me it was probably from the Russian Mafia, said they had control of all the streets round that neighborhood, they brought the stuff in from Afghanistan...Said there wasn't much they could do."

Jeffrey looked accusingly at Danny again, as though he was the one who'd dismissed the crime so lightly.

"So I decided _I_ would do something."

Rosalie, moved and straightened up beside Danny, pulling his jacket tighter around herself. Still sitting on the damp moss, still quiet, she was however clearly now also awake and listening.

"I did my research. I'm a good student see, good with computers," Jeffrey went on with a note of self hatred.

His story was now quietly pouring out of him and Danny guessed this was the first time he'd spoken of it to anyone. The explanations, the justification, the relief were all evident in his low monotone.

"I found out who the main crime families are. I found out it was the Sokolov family syndicate who were selling the drugs, who sold it to Emily. I found out about their other businesses too, the legitimate ones that are all just a front for the other shit they're into."

Jeffrey's hand dipped into his jeans pocket and he brought out a memory stick. He gripped it hard and waved it at Danny. "It's all on here. Everything. Everything they're into, I found it all... And then I hacked them."

His voice finally rose a little in righteous triumph. "I hacked into their bank accounts and I took their fucking drug money!"

"And what did you do with it?" It was Rosalie's voice which broke into the quiet that fell after his last statement.

Jeffrey Trewl's eyes turned to her as if only just remembering she was there and his face dropped when he saw her concerned expression. Danny realized that what she thought of him really mattered.

"I didn't take it for myself, if that's what you're thinking. I...I gave it away."

"Who to?" she pressed.

"Good causes. Charities n'stuff." Jeffrey's mouth curled up into something near a smile. "Drugs charities mostly, thought that would be good justice...Rehab units; children of addicts; research programs; education programs; clean-up projects...I gave them millions of dollars...secretly, of course. I made sure it was untraceable."

Danny sucked in a painful breath and squinted in concentration against the fog in his head. He still found it hard to believe the young man's stupidity.

"And who else?" Rosalie's calm voice queried. "Did you give money to other people too, Jeffrey?"

Danny heard the suspicion in her tone and looked from her to Jeffrey. His head lolled slightly as he tried to keep up with something that had apparently changed here.

Trewl's eyes fell to his fingers as he once again picked up a leaf and began shredding even more frenziedly than before.

"Friends," he whispered.

"Friends?" Danny needed clarification of what he was beginning to fully understand. His mind was sluggish and wooly, distracted by insistent pulses of pain which kept time with a heartbeat quickening now with the realization and confirmation of his own tangled asssessments.

"You transferred money to the three men who were killed this week, didn't you?" he demanded. "Didn't you?"

"I don't know how they traced it!" Jeffrey cried.

"Well, apparently they have their own hackers," Danny offered and Jeffrey looked as though he might throw up.

"I just looked one day and I could see that they'd found me. All networks leave trails - tiny, barely perceptible markers on the matrices, almost impossible to find but they're there. They must have used trackers, somehow broken through all the firewalls...I could see that they were on to me, on to what I'd done."

"On to those men, too," Danny said, his voice scraping roughly through his parched throat. "You got those men killed, and they probably never even had the faintest fucking clue why, did they? Did they even know you were behind their sudden not-so-untraceable good fortune? Poor saps. Just who the hell were they to you, Jeffrey?" He really wanted to know everything now.

... _Christ Steve, you are not gonna believe this! ..._Danny's mind flashed up an image of himself explaining the whole sorry saga to the rest of his team, then crashed back to the sickening reality that he might just never have the opportunity, that he might never actually see them again. He closed his eyes against the possibility, closing off the thought before it could take him down.

"They were just...just people I knew, people I knew from when I lived here. They were just nice guys, people I'd worked for," Jeffrey glanced up at Rosalie. "People who were kind to me."

"It was you!"

Rosalie rose onto her knees and then awkwardly pulled herself up to standing, using the tree trunk as support. Still holding onto his side, Danny craned forwards to see past her to where Jeffrey was almost cowering now, even though she still spoke softly.

"It was _you_ who put that money in _my_ account, wasn't it?"

She turned to Danny with awe in her voice. "Two and a half million dollars! About four months ago, I got a call from my bank, alerting me to the transferal of two and a half million dollars. I couldn't believe it, couldn't understand it. My accountant and my bank manager have been trying to find out where it came from ever since."

Danny couldn't help but smile up at her indignation. "You didn't trust it then? Didn't spend it?"

Rosalie looked shocked at the suggestion. "It wasn't mine."

She and Danny looked back at Jeffrey Trewl's outline in the darkness. His head was bowed low, his gaunt face and glasses hidden by the curtain of his dark hair, the knobbly vertebrae of his spine standing out beneath his thin tee-shirt, as he gripped around his bent knees with spindly thin arms. He looked very young but Danny was satisfied to see he was now also quiet and still.

He grunted and raised a hand upwards.

"Hey, uh Rosie... c-can you help me here..." Wincing against the pain scorching across his back and flaming in his side, Danny began to rise..._Have to move...have to..._

The world tilted and his vision swooped until he felt hands supporting him and heard quiet murmurings that gradually made it through the fizzing static filling his ears.

"You know, Detective, my husband is the only other person who's ever called me Rosie..."

Danny concentrated on the warm voice to anchor himself in consciousness as he swayed against her. He wanted to give her strength but he really didn't have much to share.

"Well, let's get going ...let's get you back to him then..." he gasped through the pain, trying for the normality of conversation.

"Let's not," she laughed quietly. "He died three years ago."

Danny lifted his head to try to apologize but in her lined and anxious face, streaked with mud and pale with exhaustion, his eyes also met her humor and determination.

"However, I do have a daughter who is due to give birth to my first grandchild very soon." She stood near him as he carefully braced himself, before continuing.

"So, Detective, like you say...let's get going."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 **

Steve stood balanced on the balls of his feet, instinctively flexing his posture to absorb the rolling motion of the deck beneath him. Officer Bryan Sakata stood back and watched with fascination as his body rode the motion in such an easy relaxed fashion, while his face remained fixed in pure concentration.

He'd been scanning the island for ten minutes, his hands holding up a hefty, camouflaged device to his eyes, without once breaking contact to ease the tension evident in his muscled arms. The veins and tendons stood out under the weight but he never broke off his intense surveillance.

The launch was used for sea rescues and always carried its own thermal imaging binoculars to search for survivors of maritime accidents, lost swimmers or kids carried off on windswept lilos. In modern police work, they were standard issue to cops in cars or on boats. However, experienced as he was, Sakata had never seen anything like the version that Steve had brought with him.

Thermal infrared imaging cameras of such high military specifications were more usually to be found mounted on a helicopter or a drone, to help pinpoint enemy forces wherever they may hide. Standard thermal cameras were fitted to army vehicles traveling on IED seeded roads, relied upon to pick out threats, human or technological. The one Steve that gripped so hard gave even greater clarity.

As a hand held unit, it was too heavy to be efficient in the field but, for long distance observation and recon, he'd used it many times on missions with his SEAL team. Now, as the launch edged slowly along in the dark and the mist, on the eastern, windward coastline of an island that was still virtually invisible to the naked eye, Steve could make out enough to set his nerves tingling.

Through the noisy interference of atmospheric turbulence and the density of foliage, he could make out enough. The island _should_ be deserted, but it clearly wasn't.

He turned and finally dropped his arms to set the camera down. Reaching for a map he adjusted the beam of his head torch and pointed to the outline.

"I make it at least eight people moving down this slope here...Seems to be two groups - three ahead, five following." He glanced up into the night then back down. Sakato peered closely at the map in his hand. They had computerized versions available but the Five-0 Commander clearly preferred it old school for now. His forefinger traced the tight contours again.

"They're heading down what looks like some sort of valley or a ravine, it's taking them north east..." His finger tracked down towards the wiggling coastline of the island. "They're making slow progress. It's got to be tough terrain especially in the dark. The first three are real slow, the others are maybe two miles behind but catching up to them, still moving."

Steve's pulse had quickened as soon as he'd seen the two sets of dots. He recognized a predatory pattern.

It was Danny, he was certain it was Danny but exactly _where_ he was amongst the moving red shapes that he'd watched, he couldn't be sure. The only definite thing to Steve in that moment was, whether he was the chaser or the chased, his partner needed him.

Looking up quickly at the other officer, he pointed next at the main jetty area marked on the map's southern point. "There's one person there too, not hiding...Could be a lookout. _You're_ going to need to head back that way to take a look and, if necessary, take him out."

"What? What are you going to do, aren't you coming too?" Sakata was shocked that McGarrett seemed to be counting himself out.

He watched as Steve grabbed up the satellite phone with one hand and for his holdall with the other.

"Look, if we're going to get to those other people you've seen, to your man, the main jetty's the _only_ place to land safely," Sakata persisted. "With the rocks and this weather, I can't get this launch in close enough _anywhere_ else. We'll have to hike across from there. It'll take hours but it's all we can do."

Steve didn't answer immediately but instead pressed the phone to his ear and when he came on the line, it was Chin's voice that he responded to. Sakata could only listen in with disbelief.

"I think I've found him. I think it's bad."

He didn't have time to explain everything, only the basics.

From his muted response, Steve could tell Chin clearly didn't think it was much of a plan and he knew Danny wouldn't call it one either, but he might just thank him for it..._Please God,_ Steve prayed inwardly, _Please God, let him be alive to thank me_.

At this point, he even looked forward to hearing his partner's bitching. He really, really wanted to hear his voice, even if it was for yet another Danno-dressing-down over his all-action tendencies. He feared this was the only way that might happen. The red shapes he'd seen moving on the hillside still left him a lot of unknowns, but Steve's gut was clenched with the instinct that his friend was there and was running out of time.

Finishing his call, and knowing Chin was already racing towards them, but was not yet near enough to help, Steve threw down the phone and pulled off his over-shirt, then shucked his pants and boots in seconds flat. Sakata stood by as he yanked on a wetsuit, reaching back to the flapping ribbon and pulling up the zip with practiced ease, the neoprene hugging his physique like a second skin.

He checked his weapons and ammunition and sealed them, and his clothes, into a USMC dry sack. Flinging it over his shoulders, he pulled the straps tight against his body. A diving belt went on next, a wicked looking knife sheathed at his side.

Gesturing down to the camera, he addressed the other man earnestly. "Wait here for Lt Kelly. Pass on the camera there and get him to keep me appraised, then you go keep an eye on the guy at the jetty but do _not_ take any risks. Stand off if necessary. We'll get back-up to you, when we can."

Sakata nodded silently, realizing he could not change this man's mind. His concerns for the officer's safety seemed ironic in light of what he was apparently about to do.

It was evident nothing was going to stand in McGarrett's way. Not the mile long swim against the fierce swell and a vicious current; not the breakers or the sharp volcanic rocks, and not the steep climb up through thick rainforest to face an outnumbering and as yet, unknown, threat, all of which lay ahead of him.

Finally, Steve pulled on his fins and mask and quickly lowered himself into a seated position. Without another word, he tipped backwards into the water.

He was in his element. This felt familiar, it felt right. Steve had been trained for this.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Since their short rest, something had changed.

Maybe it was the blood loss, although, as Danny pressed a palm to his side, he could really only feel a slow seepage there now. He deliberately chose to see that as a positive, despite the fact it was impossible to actually differentiate between the wetness of what could still be blood, or the sweat that dripped from him, or the dirt that covered him.

Since setting off again, exhaustion was taking its toll, waves of pain stealing all his strength, wearing him thinner and thinner with every gasped breath and stumbled step. It was everywhere, in him and of him, and yet he was beginning to feel oddly dissociated from it.

When he'd first got to know Steve McGarrett, Danny had spent several long evenings researching what SEAL training entailed. He'd figured he needed to know just what it was that could possibly make a man like that, if for no other reason than his own survival. Not that he'd ever tell Steve himself about it, of course. The guy, now his closest and most trusted friend, but still crazy nonetheless, would never let him live such interest down.

Now though, as he felt his mind drifting, Danny vaguely wondered if perhaps what his body was doing was an instinctive form of the compartmentalizing that the USMC elite so famously employed. If so, he was determined to try to use it.

_Shut down the pain; ignore that flash of agony; close off the spinning. Seal it up, bury it and just get the job done. _But it was so damned hard.

Danny fell again and again. Reaching for and clinging to the rough surfaces of the trees, they blurred through the edges of his awareness as he slipped and tripped over and over.

Roots, vines and thick ferns had buried themselves into the loamy dark soil of the ravine's sides and it seemed as though the barrier they created was the only thing that stopped Danny crashing down from top to bottom in one go. Instead, they'd been going for more than an hour and they still hadn't got to the base.

As his jeans snagged and he went down again, his face scraped against yet another thorned liana and reopened the tear on his ear and the cuts on his neck. Disorientated, he made to walk on, before realizing he was still on his knees and instead slumped onto his butt and then onto his back.

The dark of the night was unrelenting down here. Blinking up slowly, Danny could feel it sucking at him, threatening to consume him whole.

Below him, he could hear the muffled whispered voices of his companions. Jeffrey was helping Rosalie down, the shame of his confession earlier and the shouldering of his responsibility for their danger had made him more attentive to her now than before. They were all struggling, but the other two were ahead and making better progress. They were faster than Danny, falling less, recovering quicker, despite the older woman's trepidation and her evident lack of fitness.

Rolling slowly onto his side, so he was able to hunch over the pain of his clenched muscles, Danny bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from screaming and instead, using the incline to tip himself, got up again. The drop was so steep here that, standing sideways, he could simply reach out a hand and lean into it for support until his vision cleared enough to move off once more.

The pain was his enemy at this point, just as much as those he could sense were surely following them through the forest... _Box it up...Put it aside...Just fuck off! _Danny cursed it again and again in his head, desperately trying get past it, beyond and far away, to _any_where but here and this. He succeeded in a fashion. As he stumbled again, his brain finally flashed a moment of absolute clarity.

"I can't go on."

"What?" Rosalie hissed from close to him

... _Have minutes passed? Hours?_...

He could feel Rosalie's urgency as she and Trewl tugged at him, their hands clasping over cuts and bruising, brushing over the glass and splinters buried in his flesh, hurting him more. For the first time, Danny pulled away and weakly pushed them off.

"You need to leave me, I'm s-s-slowing you d-down." His voice was ragged, broken by the shallowness of the small breaths he could take. "Leave me."

Rosalie heard his seriousness through the slur and was suddenly even more terrified than she had been since this nightmare began.

"N-No...We can't. No. We'll help you, we can do it. Come on, you can do it...we've got to stay together, you said so before." Her eyes flew to Jeffrey. "Help me, Jeffrey...we can help him can't we..."

But Jeffrey was staring at Danny, running his hands around the back of his neck and shuffling his feet in discomfort, and Danny knew he understood and agreed. He and Rosalie must keep moving just as fast as they could, if they were to stand any chance at all. This cop who had saved them and led them so far, simply could not.

Casting his eyes over his injuries, Jeffrey couldn't believe the blond detective still had the strength to even stand, let alone reach out to comfort Rosalie as he did now.

"I-I'll be following you, Rosie...I might be able t-to slow down a-anyone coming after you." Danny made it sound like a plan, rather than the last stand he knew it would be. Deep shadows obliterated parts of his sweat dotted face but Rosalie could see a dangerous brightness in the blue eyes that bored into her, pleading with her.

She didn't want to hurt him more, didn't want to take his last strength from him. Her own gaze suddenly filled with tears and she put both her hand out to rest upon his broad chest. The heat pouring off him confirmed her fears but she nodded jerkily, sending the tears spilling over her dirt smeared cheeks.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."

Danny fumbled behind his back and pulled out the Beretta he'd taken off Trewl at the villa. He held it out to him.

"Take this...k-keep heading for that b-boat..."

None of them had for a moment dared to acknowledge any doubt over the existence of the barely remembered boat of Jeffrey's childhood. It was the hope they clung to.

As Jeffrey accepted the weapon, Danny hung onto it for an extra second and directed a glassy glare straight into his eyes.

"You are under arrest Jeffrey, u-understand me? For..." He hesitated as his mind sluggishly tried to track what laws Trewl had broken ..._Fraud? Money laundering? Causing the deaths of three men? Being utterly and hopelessly naively stupid? _In the end, he figured it didn't really matter at this point and flapped a gesture around them. "For this."

Danny shifted the weapon under their shared grip to emphasize what he was really getting at. "But you...you stay with Rosie here, you do w-what you have to... and y-you keep her safe."

Trewl nodded his understanding, took the gun and stuffed it into his own waistband. Taking Rosalie's arms, he pulled and turned her and they set off, quickly disappearing into the foliage and the night.

Danny was alone and in that instant, it was a relief.

The whooshing of the wind in the trees blended with the noise in his head. He shook it to try to clear it, to listen for their pursuers, but there was nothing. The movement spun his vision and sent him off balance again. Blowing out his cheeks in concentration he waited for the vortex of whirling blacks and grays to stop. He longed to slump to the ground and wait for everything to end, but he couldn't do it. He wasn't made that way. Once more, he thought back to his research on Steve's career and a quote flashed into his head. It was something he'd seen used on the blogs and websites apparently frequented by other similarly demented, heroic types.

_'Fight Harder, Dig Deeper, Last Longer'...'Fight Harder, Dig Deeper, Last Longer'..._ It sang in his head over and over again, as he finally set off with a staggering gait. He had no way of telling if the gunmen would be following his exact route, but he needed to find a place to face whatever was coming next.

At that same moment, above and behind him, five killers intent on murder, were just beginning to scale the rocky escarpment that would bring them into the ravine, while below, Steve McGarrett was pulling himself out of the sea, with the sole thought of rescue. Danny couldn't know that. All he knew was that, if he was going down, Danny Williams was damn well going down fighting.

**TBC...**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N** Thank you so much for your enthusiastic responses to this story. I'm excited to be posting this particular chapter – It might just be my favorite!

**Summary:** "_I'm from Newark, and I'm dreaming of a machete!" _Danny's life has changed a lot since moving to Hawaii. In his current danger, it certainly helps to know a SEAL.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

It had been a tough swim. Not the hardest, but tough even so.

The sea, stirred up by the incoming trade winds, had built into a five foot swell. The waves were topped with creamy white horses that turned into wild flying spray as they shattered onto the jagged rocks, trimming the island's edges like frayed lace. Having maintained a powerful, even stroke to this point, Steve knew the final fifty feet were the most dangerous. The water sucked and pulled at his body, then threw him hard towards the volcanic remnants ahead.

The trick was to allow the sea to do the work. There was no point in fighting it, she was always the mistress in any battle, but he had to be quick, time it right and position himself where the waves' momentum would not end with him being pulverized by the breakers. Twenty feet out, choosing his moment, he felt the power building with the next wave and went with it, expertly judging its height and angling his body towards a pale plateau that appeared only in flashes as the waves swept off and before the next rolled over.

Lifted and dumped, Steve crashed onto his front and immediately latched on like a limpet to resist the drag. The next wave would hit in a matter of seconds and he scrambled forwards to take a firmer hold. The power of the water crashed down upon his shoulders and his gloved hands slid over the rocks, but it also pushed him upwards and inland and again, he used it.

Within the time that four more breakers had exploded against the shoreline, Steve had hauled himself beyond their reach, shedding his gloves, fins and mask as he went. Rolling onto a narrow lip of grass-tufted flatness, he rose and looked up.

The island loomed over him and the rainforest began within a few feet, then disappeared under the cloak of towering clouds created by Hawaii's unique inversion of temperatures. The air was heavy with their moisture but Steve was still dripping seawater as he peeled off his wetsuit and pulled on his cargos and boots. He had no qualms about dumping his kit and also abandoned the flannel over-shirt he'd brought. A vest would do. He was heading for a hard, fast climb and didn't need any extra weight. He secured his shoulder holster and Sig then, with a quick check of the GPS compass on his diving watch, he set off with long loping strides that gradually shortened but barely slowed as the incline began to bite.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 **

Aslan Baiev crouched down with his torch in hand and studied the recently disturbed ground and tiny, ripped up pieces of leaves. Moving to the side, he reached out to touch lightly upon a rock. The white beam picked up a dark stain and it confirmed his assessment that at least one of their quarry was injured.

So far they hadn't been hard to track, even in the dark. Broken branches, flattened ferns and the many long furrows and scrapings left on the hillside, all attested to the falls and the desperation of the three he followed. They hadn't veered much off a single line and Baiev found himself wondering if they might actually have a goal in mind. He cursed under his breath.

He was a man who liked planning. Normally he would scope out his killing field and leave nothing to chance but he now saw this job had been jinxed from the start. There were signs. The airline had lost part of his luggage, the part that contained the silencer for one of his preferred weapons. He wasn't worried that it would be discovered, it was untraceable and protected from X-ray scans by a lead lined box, and the rest of his specialist arsenal made it through undetected as usual. He was, after all, a professional. Nonetheless, that seemed like a precursor to this current debacle. He was still chasing down his target, when he should already be heading home to collect his five figure fee..._Fuck!_

Rosanov stepped up to his side and together they peered out and down to where the black ravine abruptly fell away below them. The three other men, Robsky, Pelevin and Mineyev rested from their climb and waited for instructions. They were more used to cities than forests, good with weapons but hardly trackers themselves.

To the trained eye, the broken vegetation showed where Jeffrey Trewl and the others had plunged back into their escape attempt but Baiev hesitated before following. He guessed they were closing on them but this terrain still presented a challenge to his pursuit.

The ravine acted like a funnel. Anyone heading down would ultimately end up in the same, narrow place and his guerilla warfare training made him well aware of the dangers of that scenario. As a sniper, he preferred to stay high, maintain some distance and, while the forest canopy, the weather and the darkness were all conspiring against it, Baiev was not willing to take too many risks.

He beckoned Robsky and Pelevin forward and directed them to where the scuffled moss on the ground showed clearly.

"They can't be too far ahead, even you two can follow that," he muttered and, shouldering their sub-machine guns, they headed down.

"Follow on," he told Rosanov. "But hang back. After all, there is a cop down there with them." The two of them had powerful night sights attached to their rifles. Rosanov should be able to keep track of his team mates and spot any trouble.

"And you two?" Rosanov queried, looking back at the other remaining gunman who was clearly eager to get back to the hunt. "I thought you wanted to be the one to take out Trewl – the trophy kill."

Baiev nodded. "Don't worry, we'll be there too ...we'll just be taking a different route."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 **

When he'd been growing up in New Jersey, like most kids, Danny had made camps. They didn't have much of a yard at home but on the empty lots in their neighborhood, he and Matty and their little gang would rig up elaborate dens. They'd scavenge shopping trollies, skips and garbage from building sites. Cardboard boxes lined the roofs, stained and abandoned mattresses made sturdy walls. As the eldest, Danny had directed the construction and sent out scouts for anything that could be used. His eager team had a series of childish coded whistles and signals to warn of intruders.

He was dimly reminded of that time now, as he inched slowly backwards.

For their boyhood games, they'd raided tool boxes, stolen their dads' hammers, and made do with borrowed crowbars. Never before though, then or since, could he remember ever having wished for a machete..._A machete!_ Even amidst the swirling of his thoughts and his pains he found it ridiculous..._I'm from Newark, and I'm dreaming of a machete! Christ! _How his life had changed since moving to Hawaii.

Danny took a breath and grunted against the strain, before doubling over with the next effort, locking his elbows and forcing his fists downwards into his gut to keep his hold on the thick liana..._I'd just like to cut this whole freaking forest down..._

He was sick of pushing through the brush; sick of struggling against the hillside; sick of falling and stumbling and hurting. He was just plain sick and he knew it, knew that if he didn't succeed this time, he wouldn't be able to try again.

The tree he'd chosen as his pivot and brace came within reach and he groaned aloud with the effort of wrapping the liana around it, then pulling against it to tighten the tension as far as he could. Each hard tug wrenched at his injured side and blood dripped through his fingers from the sharp ribbons of the woody stem cutting into his palms, but without rope, he knew he had to make use of anything he could... _Bushcraft for beginners..._a bark of hysteria escaped from him.

He only had two weapons, his Sig, and the back-up Glock from his ankle holster, but he had no extra ammo beyond what they were loaded with. He whimpered another shaky laugh at himself now commissioning the use of a thin, bendy sapling for extra defense.

With a cry of desperation, he gave a final pull and, thumping down with his fists, wedged the liana into the tight V-shaped notch where the tree split into two branches. At last, he fell against the trunk and slid down still gripping the vine, afraid to let go and waste all his efforts. Sweat dripped off his brow and nose and from the ends of his hair, as he hung his head and his body shook from tiredness and pain.

He was twenty meters up from the floor of the ravine. There'd been nothing to indicate it was the floor except the sudden evenness he'd met on his last fall. It wasn't flat by any means, it still tilted downhill towards the sea, but the crazy steepness he'd rolled down had ended abruptly. Danny would have liked to have lain there longer but instead had raised up on his elbows and gazed blearily around.

He had no time or strength to find any better place and regretfully, painfully, clambered and crawled upwards on the opposite side to gain a vantage point. This tree, masked by a mesh of aerial roots and creepers would have to do, it's supple young neighbor might yet help him too.

Danny drew out his weapons and hunkered down, just as he heard the first snap of a twig and a loud Russian expletive. They were here.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Steve registered the soft buzz of his sat phone and stopped briefly to grab it. Breathing heavily, muscles screaming, there was no time for niceties.

"Sit rep?" He kept his voice low and Chin responded immediately.

"I've met up with your launch, I now have eyes-on," Steve could picture him holding up the thermal infrared camera. _Trust Chin to be able to read it_.

"I think I have you... and Steve, you're heading right into something, Brah."

On his launch out at sea, Chin fumbled the phone slightly as he hefted the camera to concentrate again on the red blobs he saw moving amongst the blurry patterns of nature's own heat..._Damn thing weighs a tonne_…

"The lead group seems to have split... One's static, maybe only a hundred yards above you on the slope. The others are still heading down, nearly a mile further down and to your north. The second group is staggered now, two are appro..."

A loud stutter of gunfire broke into the night, followed by another and Steve was off and running.

As he forced his legs to power himself faster up the slope, pushing through the dense vegetation, his blood pounded loudly in his ears but above it he still made out the familiar retort of another, very particular weapon. Experts might think it impossible to differentiate but Steve had been in enough gunfights with his partner to know that sound.

"Danny!"

**5-0 5-0 5-0**

Danny wasn't sure what had alerted the men, maybe it was his wheezing breaths, or a tiny noise of pain had escaped from him unintentionally as he'd shifted slightly. Whatever it was, the result was instantaneous.

Muzzle flashes lit up the dark and machine gun fire filled the air. Rounds tore through the vegetation like tissue paper and it flew apart like confetti, as bushes and roots were cut in two and fell like slaughtered victims of a massacre.

Danny ducked back behind his tree as rounds slapped into its roughened bark, chipping away and throwing off chunks, like a mad sculptor. He twisted to the other side and hissed at the pain the sudden movement caused. Bringing up his Sig, he aimed a couple of rounds towards the flashes, at least they identified where the shooters were but they were getting nearer.

Danny had a broad build, too broad to hide long behind a tree, but he couldn't move yet. He had nowhere to go, so instead, he rested his gun against the wood to still his shaking hands and fired back again.

Roosting birds took off shrieking at the noise below then, but their flappings were drowned out by the furious decimation being wrought by the Russian gunmen.

Squinting into the blackness, Danny realized the flashes were separating now. One remained ahead of him, the other, to the accompaniment of more flying rounds, was moving right... _No-no-no-no.._.He realized he was going to be caught in a crossfire, he had to move back to create some space, and that meant leaving his only cover.

Letting off more rapid fire of his own, he crept backwards, shuffling up the hill on his butt and pushing hard with legs that shook with the effort, hardly daring to risk a glance to look where he could go next. Rounds spat up leaf litter and sprayed moss in a line just below his desperately scrabbling feet. He couldn't move fast enough, couldn't react quick enough. Any moment now he was going to be shredded as easily as the leaves that were cascading about him.

Suddenly, another white flash exploded to his left. Fired from below, another weapon joined the cacophony. Sharp slaps amongst the deadly stutters and then a high pitched scream and the sound of a man falling.

From the gloom, Steve McGarrett emerged from the depths of the forest like some tattooed avenging angel.

Holding his weapon in a two handed grip, his stance low but still moving up hill fast, he directed his fire at the nearest gunman, the one trying to get around to the side of Danny's position. His first rounds hit the man in the shoulder and then the back, sent him tumbling, but he didn't drop his machine gun, in fact he lifted it again, toppling but still firing. Steve hit the ground rolling and rose up to a knee as the MP5 continued its lethal assault. He barely flinched as the bullets zipped past and his next two rounds hit the man in the head and chest.

_Steve!_

With a jolt, Danny registered his partner's shocking arrival in the same instant that he felt his own immediate danger. Another strip of bullets tore into the ground by his hand as the second gunman threw himself up the slope towards him.

From a little below, Steve saw Danny's desperate movements. He saw his un-coordinated twisting, saw him trying to level his own weapon while rounds sliced through the trailing orchids and branches beside him. What he couldn't see clearly though was the attacker. _Too much vegetation. Too dark. Too well hidden. Damn it! _

Steve launched himself forwards and from the corner of his eye, caught Danny trying to dodge once more. But something was wrong. Danny was slow, dangerously slow, and he lost purchase as he tried to lift himself up and instead tumbled headfirst down the hill. The machine gun's chunter that followed him covered the dull thud of Danny landing hard against a broad trunk.

Steve couldn't stop to check on him, couldn't go to him. Firing in the direction of the last white flashes, he flung himself behind the cover of a thick buttress root, still unable to pinpoint exactly where the gunman was. He took a breath for control and lifted his head to peer over the top but ducked back immediately as rounds smashed into the wood just inches from his face.

Pelevin had the superior firepower and was not blessed with brains or subtlety. Continuing his non-stop firing he walked forwards, determined now to obliterate the new threat who had just ended his friend. He felt invincible. Holding the weapon at waist height, his whole body juddering with the pulsing rounds, Pelevin was actually laughing as he took two more steps before he was suddenly and violently struck from the side with the force of what felt like a small car.

The man never knew what hit him but, peering from his cover, Steve had seen a tree lash into him, lifting and throwing him several feet through the air. Having been pulled back on itself, once released from whatever had held it, the sapling's flexible power sent him and his weapon flying. Steve shot him in mid-air and he was dead before he landed.

The frantic chattering of birds filled the sudden silence and Steve spun around in a wary circle, searching for where another gunman could be hiding, searching for any further threat.

"Danny!" He called out to where he'd seen his partner fall. From where he stood, he couldn't see him and got no response. "Danny!"

When the shooting had started, Steve remembered Chin's words about the second group, now confirmed as the Russian hit squad. He'd said they were 'staggered'. It wasn't over, there were others out there in the dark but he had to get to his partner.

Backing up the slope, eyes and weapon still scanning left and right, he moved to where Danny had fallen and discovered him doubled over in a crumpled heap at the base of a tree. Tangled up, under and over him, held in a bloody grip, the trailing ends of a still twisting liana vine seemed to be keeping him in place, like the rainforest itself was possessively claiming a prize.

"Danny!" Steve breathed. He looked broken.

Steve crabbed over to his side, his heart pounding with fear until, in the next instant, it changed to stunned and wonderful relief as Danny shifted slightly under his hands and groaned. He was alive and Steve could have kissed him for it but he immediately saw that his condition was nothing to celebrate.

Danny's face was hidden and at first, Steve didn't know where to touch him. His tee-shirt was stained and ripped across the top of his shoulders and back. He could make out dozens and dozens of cuts there but he was suddenly terrified that wasn't the worst of it. He had to know.

"Hey! Hey! Danny...easy...easy...Let's take a look at you...easy..."

Gently, Steve took his shoulders and tried to turn him, but Danny's body curled in on itself and slumped over with his arm still pressed tightly into his right side. His eyes were squeezed shut and Steve could see he was struggling to control the pain that was evident in every line of his contorting face. His breaths came in short gasps through pale tight lips. And there was blood.

The whole of the right side of his face was smeared with it, tacky in some parts, dried in others. His ear and neck was coated and blackened with it. It was mixed with dirt and debris in his hair and as Steve scanned down Danny's body, he could see way too much of it under the pressure of his partner's arm.

"Danny...Buddy...I've got you...Danny, just let me see here..."

He took a grip on Danny's forearm and pulled it away from his torso, stilling for a moment as he growled at the movement, deep and wretched like an injured animal. Steve peered at his face but Danny's eyes remained tightly closed and his brow furrowed. His jaw was clenched so hard Steve could practically hear his friend's teeth grinding. He was teetering on the edge of consciousness but something in him eased enough for Steve to lift the hem of his shirt.

"_Oh God!" _Steve could finally see the injury Danny was trying to protect_ ._

It was clearly not the result of that last attack. It was evidently, horribly, far from a fresh wound. A strip of material that had apparently been used as a hasty makeshift bandage, was now wrapped ineffectually around Danny's waist, filthy and encrusted, like a useless belt underneath the raw black hole and tear in his side. An entry but no exit. Steve knew what it was immediately.

"'S'okay Danny, hang on man...I'm gonna help you, just hang on okay, just hang on..."

Steve kept up the soothing mutterings to his partner as he dropped his pack and rummaged in its depths. Still glancing around for any threat, he brought out a SEAL medical kit, then a night vision scope that fitted snugly into his palm. Much as he needed to help Danny as quickly as possible, he couldn't risk being so distracted that they could both be targeted by the men he knew were still out there.

Keeping a hand on Danny's arm, he scanned again over the immediate vicinity, the blackness becoming shades of green through the lightweight scope. He caught the flash of an animal's eyes before it scurried away but otherwise, there was no movement, until something brushed against his other wrist.

Danny was aware of being moved and turned but that awareness was distant compared with the agony consuming his body after its smash into the foot of the tree. Slowly though, a familiar voice took on a wonderfully familiar form. He forced his eyes to open. Slits were all he could manage but he made out the shape next to him, recognized it, remembered the sight of it running towards him and was so, so grateful... _Steve!..._ His utter relief built into a quiet sob and he weakly reached out to grab at a hand.

"You got...any...water in...there?"

Steve whirled round at the touch and the whispered croak. Quickly crouching down over Danny, he could make out a dull, pale blue gaze leaking under his lashes.

"Hey! Hey, Danno, thank God...how you doing there, Buddy?" Steve felt a flood of emotion threatening to overtake him.

Swallowing hard he reached out to cup a hand around Danny's jaw, the rough stubble there rasping under his thumb as it cradled his face. It was slick with perspiration and worryingly hot. He quickly picked the leaves out of his friend's crazy wild hair and brushed at the smears of dirt coating his brow.

Danny's grip on his hand tightened as he tried to draw in more energy.

"...Or morphine...water or morphine...is what ...what I need," he gasped.

His voice was raw and rasping, barely audible, but Steve heard something of the familiar joker in the truth of the request and felt some of the anxiety of the last twenty four hours easing from him... _I have him..._It was the certainty he'd been needing.

"One step at at time, man..." he replied.

The field kit he carried did indeed include morphine but Danny's breathing was not good right now and Steve had some crucial assessments to make over how best to help him.

The dry sack he was using as a pack had a water bladder built in and he quickly held out the pipe and mouthpiece to Danny's lips, lifting up and supporting his head so he could take a drink.

"Slowly, Danny...just a little at a time," he urged, as Danny swallowed and then spluttered. Some of the water spilled out and he groaned with the pain it caused to cough. Nodding weakly, he reached for the mouthpiece again and this time took slower sips until the effort overcame him and Steve carefully laid his head back on the mossy earth again.

Danny's hold on his hand had moved to his forearm but had not released and Steve realized they both desperately needed the connection. "I've got you Danny," he whispered again. In an inverted grip he returned the firm squeeze of comfort and fished in his pocket for the sat phone with his other hand.

"Steve! What the hell's going on up there?"

From Chin's distant maritime vantage point, the gunfight had looked like an old fashioned computer game, nothing but tantalizing red figures moving around each other, too close to easily distinguish one from another. Those last five minutes had been full of fear for his friends.

"Two enemy dead," Steve related quickly. "And I've found Danny. I'm with him now."

"Is he okay?"

Steve looked down and met Danny's glazed eyes staring up at him and blinking too slowly.

"He's hurt pretty bad. But he's going to be okay." Out on the launch, Chin could tell the words were not entirely directed at him. He sensed that Danny was listening to Steve too and badly needed to hear his hope and determination. He wondered just how badly off Danny really was and inwardly raged that there wasn't anything he could do to help from this distance. But Steve needed him anyway.

"Can you see where our other players are?" he asked quickly.

Chin had been studying the red blobs hard and answered immediately. "Two of the group you just took on split away and are already heading up the other side of your ravine, to the north of your location. There's another on the move, maybe half a mile right above you...might be trying to set up his own little ambush if you head down?" It was so incredibly frustrating to be trying to read these images.

"Or maybe they're taking their chance to go after the others," Steve mused.

"They're heading f-for a dock...T-trewl thinks there's a b-boat..." Danny whispered and Steve's attention fell to him again.

"There's another dock?" he questioned. Danny was clearly finding it hard to find enough strength to pass on what he knew but it was important. "Danny...they're heading to another dock?"

Danny nodded and sucked in a breath, clasping at his side where his ribs burned in protest at the action. "North-east point...I told them to...leave me...was slowing them down." _Oh Christ, Danny!_

Chin spoke up in Steve's ear. "Sokato's already on his way to the main jetty. He said that's what you ordered. What do you want me to do?"

Steve stared around him in frustration. They had so little time and not enough people. "You're going to have to head to the north-east...Danny says that's where Trewl and …" He stopped when he realized he didn't actually know who the second person was who was currently running for their lives through the rainforest.

"M-Mrs Hagino," Danny supplied weakly. "Rosie..."

"Trewl and Rosalie Hagino are making for another dock there," Steve relayed. "Chin, you've got to get over there to help them. I think Baiev and Rosanov are still after them." He didn't need to explain that the two assassins were the most dangerous of the hit squad, the most efficient at their deadly craft.

There was a short silence. "If I leave this location, I won't be able to update you with their movements," Chin warned.

"No choice, Brah. Go now!"

Shutting off the phone, Steve grinned down at Danny. "Just you and me now, Danno. Now, let's see if we can get you fixed up a little before we go."

Danny groaned at the challenge and watched wearily as Steve began to unpack the medical kit. He knew he was about to suffer some more and was genuinely frightened at the thought.

"C-can't you just...leave me here...I'll just l-lay here quietly...u-until you g-get back..." he suggested, bracing himself as Steve's fingers approached the bullet wound.

"No way. We're going to do this together, Danny. You get into too much trouble on your own."

Steve hated that, after all that he'd already endured, he was going to have to hurt his friend further. Pressing him firmly back, he finally pulled his hand away from Danny's grasp and he couldn't tell if it was the pain of the separation or the movement that dragged a sharp cry of distress from him.

Steve quickly unwrapped a small sterile pack. "Here, suck on that, it'll help." He noted a tiny quirk of Danny's brow and knew, if his condition wasn't so serious, he would have found the strength to make a joke of the order. Instead, Danny just accepted the fentanyl lollipop against the inside of his cheek.

Military medics used the small white lozenges in the battlefield as the preferred method of slow release pain relief. It was easier to control than morphine with less need for careful monitoring, but Steve knew it wouldn't block it completely or kick in immediately. He braced himself for what he had to do.

"Steady," he whispered as he set to work and Danny trembled beneath him.

"'s'not too s-s-serious...sh-shallow...bu-bullet's just th-there...right?" Danny gasped as Steve's fingers probed. "I c-could feel...it...before." He ground his teeth together to prevent a scream as it felt like Steve was stabbing him. "You..gonna...pull it out?" The question was breathed out.

Steve figured this conversation was a Danny Williams attempt at distraction and he'd do anything to help his friend through this.

"No, Danny. I don't think I'll be pulling it out myself. What do you think this is, Rambo?"

He squinted at the ragged wound and traced its length. Framed by what felt like two broken ribs, it was swollen and ugly, discolored even under the dirt that coated Danny's torso. Bits of forest debris had already worked their way in there and glistened moistly in the still slow ooze of blood. Fabric from his shirt would also have been carried in and embedded in his flesh. Invisible living bacteria and infection were already attacking him from the inside. "Besides, I can't feel it here any more."

Danny hissed again, his eyes were screwed up against the abuse. "Maybe it j-just fell out..." he suggested hopefully.

"Huh, unlikely." Steve pretended to consider it for a moment to mask the fact that he knew Danny's activity could well have worked the bullet deeper by now. He continued to work, tipping a liberal amount of antiseptic fluid over the wound and trying to gently wipe off some of the worst dirt with a sterile pad. "Your luck just doesn't seem to work that way, Buddy," he said.

"Sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry..." Steve's apologies flowed like a mantra as Danny's back arched up off the ground at the pain.

Cutting away the mucky amateur bandage, he noticed something odd..._What the hell?.._.Holding it up on the end of his knife, he leaned closer to Danny's ear and whispered wickedly. "Hey, Danno, when d'you start wearing women's underwear, Bro?"

Danny's consciousness was wavering and blurring. He swallowed hard on the bitter taste of the fentanyl while his vision and hearing swooped in and out, but that teasing tone coming from his partner was something that could not to be ignored. It forced a hissed and indignant reply from behind his clamped lips.

"'snot mine...'sRosie's-s-s..."

"Sure," Steve grinned, then sighed heavily and wiped the back of his hand over his own mouth. He didn't want to push Danny but keeping him talking did seem to be helping..._ Just hang in there, Buddy..._

"So, she's a nice lady?"

Danny grunted an affirmative then stilled. With a horrible clarity, through the red mists filling his head, he remembered what he needed to tell his friend

"They killed Sam..." His blue eyes sought Steve's. "I-I couldn't do anything...th-they shot her..."

Steve had guessed already. Having heard the names of Danny's companions, his calculated head count had come up short. He could see horror and guilt in Danny's face as he sipped shaky breaths and tear tracks melted into the dirty blond hair above his bloody ear. Steve rested a hand there for comfort.

"Not your fault, Danny," he assured him softly. His own guilt soared at the thought of how _he_ had been the one to involve Sam in the first place. If anywhere, the fault lay with him. He couldn't afford to address it now but he knew it would be one more thing to weigh upon his friend. He searched for something to say but it was Danny who spoke up again. He was on some kind of roll now and as Steve wrapped a sterile dressing against the bloody, infected wound at his side and then around his body, Danny countered the agony with a spilling of all the things he'd learned.

"They're Russian Mafia..."

"Uh huh..." Steve clipped the dressing in place

"Trewl...h-he stole money f-from them..."

"I know..."

"...m-millions and millions...of dollars...just gave it away..."

"I know..."

Danny let out another short cry of pain as Steve moved him to the side to inspect his back and neck. His cheek was now pressed into the damp moss but, still shaking, he continued with what he thought really should be startling revelations to his partner.

"The mob killed ...th-those men...Trent...and K-Keku...and...and..." It was no use, his brain was too fuzzy to find the other victim's name. He felt so bad for it..._useless, I'm so fucking useless...can't __remember..._

"Melahua," Steve supplied gently. If it was helping Danny get through this, he'd do his bit too.

"They killed them...to sh-show Jeffrey what was coming h-his way..."

"I know..."

Steve couldn't remove the many pieces of debris, shards and splinters in Danny's back, it would be a lengthy surgical job. However, using the wipes and antiseptic fluid, he tried to clean the inflamed wounds and then tore open three broad sterile dressings and covered what he could.

"It w-was all over a girl..."

"I know."

"J-Jeffrey blamed … the Russians for her drug...overdose..."

"I know."

Steve was distracted by the mess at the side of Danny's head but realized his friend had stopped talking. His blue eyes were slitted sideways as he was apparently trying to twist to look up at him.

"You're re-really annoying...you know _that_?"

Steve huffed a laugh. Danny was badly injured, had lost a lot of blood and was probably in shock from pain, trauma and fatigue, yet typically he still managed to sound tetchy. He glanced down at his watch. These ministrations were vital but they were also eating into valuable time. He had to finish up quickly, more distractions were needed.

"Looks like you tried to pierce your ear with a machete here, Babe." He swiped at it with a wipe sodden with antiseptic fluid that ran back into Danny's hair and down his neck in bloody rivulets. The cartilage was torn and ragged at the edges and his earlobe had been ripped.

Steve's words filtered through the whooshing in Danny's head and the gluggings in his ear canal. With a flash of deja vu, they reminded him of something he'd been dreaming of. He moaned and muttered something so quietly that Steve dipped closer to hear him. Something about needing a machete "...to cut...freakin' forest down!"

That in turn startled a sudden recollection for Steve too. Something that he still found quite hard to believe.

Leaving the ear uncovered, he pressed a final dressing against Danny's cut neck, then very gently lifted him up to a sitting position. Moving around, he leaned his solid weight back against his own chest and simply held him for a moment as Danny huffed for breath and small whimpers escaped from him with each one. Steve could feel him trembling and knew he was near the end of his endurance, and yet he had to ask more of him.

He allowed him to rest there a for a minute and felt Danny begin to relax slightly against him. Putting a hand on his brow, he pulled his head back into the crook of his own throat and shoulder and smoothed his hair back, his fingers pulling it into something near the style he usually sported. Stiff with blood and wetness, the strands stayed put for the moment.

"Hey...Hey, Buddy" Steve murmured. "Time to go...we gotta go Danny."

He shifted carefully out from behind him and held him in position with one hand, while he gathered up the medical supplies and hefted his pack with the other.

Danny groaned. "Ste...don't...don't think...I can...I can't..."

Steve crouched down in front of him, forcing him to look right at him though sheer will and his own hard stare. He could see the fever that was already burning and pulsing in him, felt the heat of it building through his hands where they gripped onto Danny's biceps. Through his own bleary vision, the waves of exhaustion and the still throbbing and constant pain, Danny saw only strength and faith in his friend's storm dark eyes. Trust didn't take words. Acceptance followed.

With a grunt, Danny allowed himself to be pulled up to standing and, fighting all that his body was shouting at him about giving up, he locked everything down. Steve pulled his left arm over his shoulders and hunched his own height to match Danny's. Next, slipping his right hand around Danny's back, feeling the sweat pooling there, he took a firm grip on his partner's leather belt, below the bandaged wound, and glanced down to his pale face. Lines of pain now obliterated the laughter lines he knew so well but there was steely grit in there too.

"It's gonna be okay Danno, I promise," he said.

As they set off slowly, Steve nodded sideways to where a young sapling moved and flexed with the wind, still trailing wooded vines across its whip like limbs. He gave Danny a little shake until he turned his bleary gaze to the tree and then back up to Steve's knowing smile.

"You're gonna be just fine Danny, I know it, 'cause anyone who can make a mantrap like that has the balls of a survivor. Way to go, Buddy." Danny felt so damn weak but tried hard to return the grin. After all, it wasn't often he could impress his Navy SEAL partner with his own attempts at jungle warfare.

"We're c-clearly spending...w-way too much time together," he rasped, leaning into his friend, allowing him to bear his weight. "Now please...just get me outta here."

**TBC...**

_(Reunited! See, that's why I like it...you?)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary: **You think you know a guy...Finally reunited, Steve must get Danny to safety. Distraction helps but they're not the only ones facing surprising revelations.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Kono Kalakaua had never been high-maintenance. Sure, she enjoyed an occasional evening wearing a sparkling, figure hugging evening gown and she knew just how to make the most of her athletic figure and beauty. At heart though, she was a true daughter of her relaxed island home and Kono's preferred outfit would always be a bikini, ideally accessorized with a surfboard. At work it was all about the practical - skinny jeans and boots that she could run in if necessary. For Kono, 'Getting Ready' generally meant simply shaking the sand from her hair and slicking on a lip gloss. No messing.

Now though, as she absently glanced up at the mirror on the back of her car's sun visor, she did momentarily wonder if she should have spent a little more time on her appearance before pitching up, uninvited, at her present venue. After all, she was about to try some serious persuasion and the man she had to convince might take her more seriously if she didn't look like she hadn't slept all night. Which she hadn't.

Tutting irritatedly at herself for even allowing the thought to cross her tired mind, she slammed the mirror back up and then the door as she left the little car and hurried towards the front of the Governor's mansion.

She'd already been through this once at the gate, they had to have passed her identification on but, within a few feet, she was stopped by another huge and impassive federal agent. He was flanked by two equally taciturn colleagues and the three of them simply stepped into her path and made an impressive wall of muscle.

Kono's mind flashed to some of the moves she'd been practicing with Steve at the gym. She was pretty certain she could reduce the odds with a flying roundhouse kick, but this was not the time or the place. Five-0 did not have a good reputation when it came to forcing entry to the Governor's mansion.

_No, this has to be by the book._ Kono raised her ID and introduced herself. Again.

"I need to speak to the Chief of Police," she informed the men. "I know he's due to be here."

One of the men took her badge and studied it closely. Kono didn't recognize any of them and they clearly didn't know her either. They were evidently from the mainland, probably part of the additional security for the Presidential visit.

A hushed conversation into the sleeve of his jacket ended with the lead agent finally giving a sharp nod of approval and the impressive front door swung open. Kono stepped in and was faced with the bustle of a 'Big Day' unfolding.

Interns from the governor's offices were trying to exert their home ground advantage over the visiting White House entourage but failing in the face of the Washington DC pecking order and the innumerable clipboard and i-pad consultations being held in huddles along the corridors. It was known as 'big-footing'.

More federal agents stood at every doorway, fingers to their ears and attuned to the chatter that was apparently being directed at them too. Their eyes watched her as she skirted around a large gaggle of children being shushed and corralled by harassed looking teachers, apparently preparing for a song while more kids practised on a quartet of ukuleles. Kono had seen a TV crew turning up in the driveway just behind her and the children were clearly extremely, and noisily, excited to be about to feature on the local station's morning show.

Several anxious looking press officers were trying hard to keep some semblance of order. Half a dozen elderly gentlemen in perfectly pressed Second World War uniforms sat watching all the confusion with amusement, their combat medals shining proudly, also clearly prospective interviewees for what was to be some special coverage. A roped off area remained empty amidst the chaos and Kono realized that would be where members of the press would be ushered for the speeches and welcomes to come later in the morning.

At the far side of the large entrance hall, beyond a vast floral arrangement at its center, Kono could see a desk that seemed to be the hub for all the activity and she made her way towards it.

A woman she knew as one of the Governor's senior staff was marshaling people left and right. Two younger assistants were fielding questions from the queue of demanding representatives of various charities and veterans' groups lined up in front of the desk.

"No, the children will do their song first..." "No, there will be no time today to visit the veterans' hospital, that's why you were invited here..." "As I'm sure the producers have explained already, only those already chosen will be interviewed..." "Certainly, Sir, the bathrooms are just down there on the left hand side..." "Yes, I'm afraid the Presidential party _is_ running a little late but I'm sure they'll be back on schedule very soon...it is still very early after all..."

Kono fidgeted impatiently behind the lines of people. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that it was indeed still early and she remembered that sunrise was only due to be happening about now. Not that there was much of it to see in the constant drizzle. _Damn it!_ It might well be an early start for all these people but it was too damn late for her team, for Danny, and enough was enough.

"I need to see the Chief of Police," she shouted over the hubbub at the woman she recognized, who waved back a 'hold on a moment' gesture at her.

"I was told he was here," Kono tried again, but louder. "It's important!"

Fending off two peoples' questions at the same time, the woman pointed to the sweeping staircase that led up from the hallway, at the foot of which more feds stood like statues. _At last! _

Coming down, straightening his uniform and apparently brushing crumbs from its front, was John Mahaka, Chief of Hawaii's Police department. He had a very pleased smile on his face that dropped immediately when he caught sight of the Five-0 officer waiting for him.

Mahaka hesitated and looked behind him as though considering running back up the stairs but Kono pushed past the nearest agent and leapt up the treads to stand on the one just below him.

"Chief Mahaka," she began. "I'm sorry to have to..."

"What are you doing here?" He hissed, glancing anxiously back up the stairs once more. "This is most inappropriate."

"I've been trying to reach you, Sir. Your office told me this is where you'd be," she explained.

"Well, they should also have told you that I was busy this morning. Un-contactable," he spat out angrily. "I left orders that I was not to be disturbed."

"They said you were having breakfast..."

"I was having a breakfast _meeting_ with the Governor and the President," Mahaka corrected her with a superior air. It had been the proudest moment of his career so far. An honor. He was on his way now to find a quiet corner to make a very quick call to his wife to tell her all about it.

"Yes, I'm sorry, but this couldn't wait," Kono interjected quickly. "It's about the murders and the missing man."

"Yes, yes...I know all about it …Five-0 are off chasing after suspected links with Russian mobsters," he made it sound ridiculous. "I have been briefed," he asserted irritatedly.

Again, he glanced behind him and then laid a hand on Kono's shoulder as if to usher her downstairs and out of the way.

Her right leg itched with the urge to land one on him. The only time she'd ever had close dealings with the man before was when she was stripped of her badge pending an investigation into her part in the stealing of money from the PD lock-up. She had of course been guilty but Kono never regretted the actions that had saved the life of her cousin Chin. She had been exonerated, after all. However, back then, the establishment of her 'dirty-cop' image, for the sake of an undercover sting, had been traumatic and Chief Mahaka had seemed to enjoy her discomfort far too much.

There had always been resentments between Five-0 and HPD. The whole team did what they could to ease them but it was a difficult relationship. The Governor's specialist unit had originally been established to counter the long standing police corruption that had allowed serious crime to flourish in the Islands. While things were certainly improving, politically, it had still been a kick in the teeth to John Mahaka to have it set-up over his head.

The recent press interest in Danny had stirred up further tensions and Kono knew that Steve had been particularly annoyed that Mahaka had resolutely avoided speaking out to give him his backing. Or in fact, any backing. They all felt that, at times, Mahaka actually actively sought ways to block Five-0, to score points. This appeared to be one of those occasions, but Kono was not about to let this man's ego get in the way of their operation, to get in the way of getting help to her friends.

When Mahaka so condescendingly put a hand on her, Kono saw red.

"Chief, your office clearly _hasn't_ briefed you on the latest situation. Or you simply haven't listened." He bristled visibly but Kono ignored it. "I've been updating your senior officers all night about the changes in the case. And I've been _trying_ to reach you." She suspected he had deliberately been avoiding her calls but she was determined to make him listen and take responsibility now.

She stepped up to his level and he backed off when he saw a dangerous flash in her dark eyes. Mahaka had been a career cop for twenty one years and was used to dealing with all sorts of aggressors but this setting and her anger caught him off guard.

"Like I've been trying to tell you since the early hours, the Russian connection has been _confirmed_. The FBI have confirmed it, cyber-crimes have confirmed it, witnesses have confirmed it and now a gunfight on an island three hours away from here has confirmed it."

Kono circled around until she was standing on the step above him, looking down but as yet oblivious to the crowd of interested spectators now turning their faces to watch. She tried to keep her voice low but the danger facing her team, this man's stubborn intransigence and her tired frustration was reflected as her tone gradually became louder and angrier.

"Officer Kalakaua..."

"There _is_ a Russian hit squad out there and one of my team has been injured," she interrupted. Her hands on her hips showed their fine white knuckles as she tried to keep a grip on her temper.

"I've already given your squad what help I can...I signed off on two maritime patrol launches ..." he stammered, trying to re-establish his authority but failing in the face of her tirade.

"That was _before_ we had the confirmations, _before _we knew exactly what we're dealing with." She flung an arm wide in a general gesture to the outside. "Have you seen the weather out there Chief?" she demanded and Mahaka stepped back and down another stair.

"We still can't fly...We can't get to them. We need _more _help, _more_ back-up. We need it now and only _you_ can authorize it!"

Kono's final demand fell in a heavy silence and she suddenly became aware that she had a large audience below and they had all stopped talking. Everyone from the interns, to the kids, to the veterans and even the federal agents was looking up at the staircase. Kono gulped in sudden nervous embarrassment.

Chief Mahaka was no longer looking at her. Glancing from him to the hundreds of eyes below her, Kono realized that everyone's stunned gaze was also apparently not on her after all, but on something behind her. Or someone.

"Actually, Officer Kalakaua, there are at least two more of us here who could give the authorization you are so passionately asking for."

Kono recognized Governor Denning's deep voice even as she turned slowly to look up and behind her. She also couldn't fail to recognize the man at his side.

In that instant, Kono really wished that _this_ morning, she had taken the time to brush her hair.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Sunrise on the distant island came with less than its usual pink awakenings. Instead, like an antiquated television set just warming up, the brightness slowly increased to reveal a scene still affected by the impenetrable interference of thick cloud.

For the second time in a matter of hours, Chin was leaping off his police launch onto a wooden deck but where the previous one had been well kept, this was rotting. The planks were holed or missing and Chin had to jump over wide gaps before he made it to the end. Catching the rope thrown to him, he tied it loosely through a thick ring set into a rock where the dilapidated jetty met the land, all other moorings had been lost to the elements.

From the sea it had been devilishly hard to spot. Evidently a well kept and aged secret, it was only because they had been told it should be there that Chin had been able to make it out at all, even with binoculars.

Tucked into the side of the hillside ahead, a pair of wooden doors stood like an entrance into the rock face itself. They were almost hidden by curtains of trailing creepers that appeared to be devouring them. The rusted lock was easily broken off but it took Chin some effort to free the doors from the clinging embrace of the vegetation.

The boathouse Trewl had remembered turned out not to be a building but a cave cut out generations ago by intrepid fishermen in need of a stop-off when too far out to sea to reach any other shelter. Inside, under a molding tarpaulin, an old wooden boat lay upside down like the dried out carapace of a dead insect, its long oars laid out beside it like tributes left at a burial.

Glancing about him, Chin saw an equally ancient outboard engine propped in a gloomy corner. Judging by the amount of orange rust he could make out on the propeller blades, it was a long time since it had seen any use. On a bench at the side, a decrepit looking maritime radio set was covered with a thick layer of grime that could not have been disturbed in years. It was like something out of a museum.

Chin didn't have time to check if any of it would actually work but he seriously doubted it. If Danny, Trewl and Mrs Hagino had been pinning their hopes on saving themselves with this lot they would have had to have been absolutely desperate. _They still are, _he reminded himself and headed back out into the damp early morning.

From this angle and with the prospect of having to move fast and travel light, the thermal imaging camera that had helped before, no longer gave any advantage. Ridges of rock reached down the slope of the island's side, clawlike and skeletal, and the little harbor itself was set well back into the shelter of a tiny cove slotted into the gaps.

"Gerrit, stay here with the launch." Chin looked up at the steep slope and its covering of rainforest. "Stay sharp. We can't afford for anyone to take it. It may be our only getaway... or theirs," he added pointedly.

Dole nodded his understanding. He would be ready if _anyone _came running out of the forest, but he was frustrated to be left behind and worried for the other man, a man he'd come to know and respect during the course of the night. He handed across Chin's daysack and, as he turned to head for a narrow trail they'd seen winding around the edges of the rocks at the island's base, he called out to him.

"Hey Lieutenant, I hope you're in time. I mean, I hope Williams is okay...I just wanted to say, I never believed any of that stuff in the paper. You know, those stories about him having some sort of crazy death wish." He looked slightly embarrassed but finished hurriedly. "I've seen him around, he's a good cop."

Chin smiled. "Yeah he is," he called back and waved his gratitude at the sentiment. He set off with the anxious knowledge that he had no way of telling what he might face.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

It took nearly half an hour for the Fentanyl to kick in properly. Until then, Steve had been aware of every movement they made as each step, each stoop, trip, stumble and hitch was accompanied by the sounds of Danny's distress. Even though Steve muttered encouragements, Danny could not respond with anything but bitten off grunts, gasps and soft curses.

It was a relief to them both when the drug finally dampened the harshest edges of Danny's pain.

Steve felt it in a slight change in his carriage as his partner weakly tried to take a little more of his own weight in their tortuous march. He could still feel the heat of Danny's fever against his side, on the inside of his arm and wrist where it supported him, but at least he was quieter now. However, with Danny, quiet was never an entirely good thing.

His head was lolling about, falling forwards, then sideways, banging against Steve's clavicle and dropping back again as he tried to look around and take in their progress. The pain may have receded for now but Steve knew it wouldn't last and Danny was failing in other ways. He had to keep him focused with whatever he could think of.

"See that, the 'Ohi'a leuna is the dominant tree up there in the canopy...That's native hala...A kukui...I think that's maybe a milo...A fan palm. Hey, even you should know that one, Buddy...And those roots hanging down there, man, those take moisture and nutrients right out the air..." His recitation went on and on. If he was honest, he wasn't even sure if he was correct in all he was saying, he simply dredged up what he remembered of his mother's teachings and botanical interests.

The species names of rainforest plants and their unique traits were not really of much interest to Danny right then but they gradually filtered through the buzzing in his brain anyway and he appreciated what Steve was doing. As the words permeated the fug, Danny slowly became aware that it was no longer night.

"Morning..." he muttered.

"Morning to you too, Buddy," Steve responded immediately, relieved to finally get a response and trying to peer under Danny's hair to see just how cognizant he really was.

"No...i'smorning, you goof." Steve took it as a good sign that Danny was once more calling him names.

"Yeah, we're doing good," Steve figured a little lie couldn't hurt. "It's been light for more than an hour."

He looked upwards and, even though the leafy canopy blocked a clear view, he could tell from the moisture still hanging and the drips still falling that, unfortunately, the thick cloud had not lifted with the darkness.

"Make it easier to spot them...r-right?" Danny made a floppy nod out at the forest and Steve, though worried by his wavering awareness, was impressed that he could at least register the continued threat of three killers still out there somewhere.

Even while supporting his partner, Steve had been constantly surveilling the area. The pale gray light now made it easier but the vegetation made it impossible to be certain if they'd been overtaken or were being followed.

"No sign yet, Buddy." Seeing Danny raise his head again to try for his own view, Steve noted his tongue dipping pitifully at dry, split lips. "Hey, you want to stop for a drink?"

Danny held himself rigid as Steve lowered him carefully down next to a tree..._Another freakin' __tree!..._He tilted his gaze upwards."So'sthat a Koa then?" he slurred, with a hint of his usual sarcasm and Steve smiled at him.

"Ah, so some of that stuck, huh? Thought you might like to know more about the flora and fauna while we take this little stroll. Y'know, enjoy the scenery."

"Jus' don't give me a drink ...from one of those p-pitcher plants...d'sgustin'."

"Well, you could use some protein in you too, Danny. Flies could be good...chewy." Steve was in fact unfolding the mouthpiece of the Camelbak as he teased. He held it to Danny's mouth and supported his neck. "Here you go. Bug free."

Danny grumpily mumbled something about "Bear fuckin' Grylls..." But he nodded his thanks after a few swallows and Steve took a moment to check the dressings he'd applied. The one at his side was showing a dark red stain and Steve frowned at the ominous, thread-thin lines that were sneaking from underneath.

He looked up to study Danny's bruised, cut face and was met with a steady pale blue gaze from under heavy lids.

Now that his pain has been temporarily forced into the background, Danny was even more aware of the infection building in him. He felt it in the heat and the shivers and the obscene heaviness of his limbs. Beads of sweat trickled down the sides of his face and neck and had plastered his tee-shirt to his chest. Despite his still blurred vision, he could see the look on Steve's face.

Their eyes met but neither man wanted to address this right now. There was nothing to be done but what was unsaid was understood.

Steve broke the silence with practicality. "So, how bad is the pain right now – on a scale of one to ten?"

Danny huffed. "A scale of one to ten? Really?... What, with 'one' being the time when you got me shot on the very first day I met you, and 'five' being when I was poisoned with sarin, and 'ten' being when I got knifed in the gut?" He coughed weakly at the long list. "Is that what you mean, Steven?"

Steve grinned in mock triumph. "'One!' Ha! I _knew_ it hadn't hurt as much as you made out when you got that little graze on the arm that time. And that last one, the stabbing, that was before my time," he pointed out.

Danny had to accept that. He drew in a breath to test his side and ribs, then angled his head and shifted his shoulders. Even in the humor and amidst his rather swirling thoughts he could hear the concern in Steve's voice and knew that he actually needed a real answer.

"'s okay...Better...Don't ever listen to the warnings, Babe. Drugs are a wonderful thing. I love drugs."

"Yeah well, let's make the most of them then." Steve replied and leaned down to lift Danny up again. He didn't want him to realize the effects would only last a couple more hours at best.

They set off again with Danny burning up under Steve's arm and getting heavier with each step. They'd been going for some minutes before their silence was ended unexpectedly.

"Y'know, I was shot in the ass once."

Steve stopped short at that and stared down at his partner who gave an impatient pull to force them staggering forwards once more.

"Was when I...when I was a rookie," Danny continued, using the conversation to distract himself from the strange sensation that pieces of him seemed to be flying away. Jogged by his present circumstances, his jumbled memory had shaken loose this particular fragment from his past and, for the sake of something certain, he hung on to it and shared it as they trudged on, clinging to each other.

"Ch-chasing a couple of mu-muggers. Ran into an a-alleyway...didn't check behind me...t-took a slug in the butt." He managed a wry grin in Steve's direction just as a bead of perspiration slid into his eye and he winked it away.

"I'd say th-that was about an 'eight' a-at the time..." he concluded.

"I bet. How did I not know this?" Steve queried.

"Not the k-kind of thing a man wants people...to know...I had to g-go to the ER with my...my ass hanging out in the ambulance...I b-begged my partner a-and the doctor to...to write it up as 'top of the leg'..."

Steve couldn't help but smile at his image of Danny as a newbie patrolman, so young and terrified of being teased by his colleagues. A police precinct could be worse than any school playground.

"Th-thought I'd got away with it too," Danny continued, pressing on even as he tripped and hitched a breath.

"Was pretty sure actually, 'til ...'til I limped back into work...a-after a week off. I walked into the s-squad room and e-every single cop in there...dropped their pants a-and gave me the f-full moon!"

Steve laughed out loud at the picture he painted. "Ha! Please tell me they gave you a nick-name too." But Danny shook his head.

"Think I must've blanked that bit."

Ever vigilant, Steve was looking around them again even as he continued with the teasing. "You do realize I have the clearance to access all kinds of secret information about you, don't you, Danno. If they gave you a nickname I _will_ find it."

"D-don't suppose it's hard t-to guess. I was the ..."

"...butt of a lot of jokes," Steve and Danny finished together.

It was almost like they weren't in the middle of this nightmare of survival. The easy banter, though broken and snatched through stuttering breaths and winces, could have been from one of their car conversations. Then again, if he wasn't so weakened, Danny may not have been imparting such sensitive secrets at all. Steve realized suddenly this might be his partner's way of telling him everything he might ever want to know, more in fact, in case he didn't get another chance. A final confession, Williams style.

_Fuck that! _Steve had his own revelations.

"Well, it just so happens, I got hit in the ass once too."

"'f course you did," Danny retorted with resigned irritation. "Like I've t-told you before...you are a 'topper'! Jeeze...I can't even have m-my own pain-in-the-ass story without you having one too. Sometimes it's really hard...to be your friend, you know that."

"Says the guy I had to come all this way to rescue," Steve shot back.

Danny inclined his head. "Good point." He coughed and laughed weakly, then coughed some more.

Steve could feel the hard muscles of his partner's side quivering with tremors under his hand, as he wheezed in some short breaths but he waved a gesture of weary encouragement. "So, go on then...do tell..."

"I was on a mission and got hit by shrapnel when a detonator was set too early." Steve decided to hold back on the details of heavily armed Somali pirates and the rescue of a hijacked American Ambassador and his family. No need to outline all the drama of the secret operation in foreign waters, or the lengthy gun battle that had ensued, or the painful medivac procedure that had followed.

"Bet you ...got yourself another medal f-for that didn't you?"

"Well yeah," Steve admitted. "But it's not one I like to wear. Not when everyone on my team knows just where the injury was. They very kindly had it mounted in a frame for me, along with the hunk of metal they pulled out my rear end. I'll show it to you one day if you like," he offered. _Who knows what weird incentive might keep him going right now, _Steve thought. He was willing to offer up his pride and risk merciless ridicule if it helped. He would do anything.

There was a short moment of contemplation before Danny replied wheezily. "Okay, but those scars? Th-they're something we should agree, right now, _never_ to compare, a'right?"

"Deal," Steve agreed.

The sound of their muted laughter was too low to carry, but two hundred meters away, Vasily Rosanov could just make out glimpses of the staggering pair as they disappeared then reappeared through the forest, between branches and vines and thick brush. It was enough. He could also see the expert diligence of the tattooed man's constant surveillance of their surrounding terrain.

The man he'd seen run out of the night to the rescue of his friend, and there was absolutely no doubt in Vasily's mind that these two were close friends, was clearly a military man. The way he moved, the way he'd handled his weapons, the strength he was showing now in practically carrying the blond, all told a story that Vasily recognized easily. He was highly trained and dangerous.

He could have risked a shot, might have got lucky, after all, that first cop looked as though he was seriously injured and would be an easy kill. However, the pair were still heading towards where Vasily knew Baiev was also trailing and targeting the others and he decided to bide his time further.

At this rate, all their prey would eventually be cut off and caught in the same trap. Then it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

Chin heard them before he saw them. The crackle of snapping branches and high soft whimpers like those of a wounded puppy, interspersed with thicker grunts and whooping breaths. Chin halted and crouched to listen, gauging the distance and bracing his weapon in two handed readiness.

Rosalie Hagino and Jeffrey Trewl fell out of the treeline a hundred yards ahead. They stumbled a few steps on the rocky trail and then dropped to their knees together, as her weight brought him down too. They stayed there, still and panting for a moment, before Trewl began to scrabble to stand again. As he rose up, his eyes lifted and took in the handsome Asian man now before them.

Rosalie screamed and grasped in panic at Jeffrey's leg as she tried to shuffle back towards the dark forest that had spat them out just moments before. Seeing the young man reaching to his waistband for the gun stuck into his belt, Chin knew he had to move fast. He held his own weapon up, pointed it harmlessly to the sky and then raised his other palm in a pacifying gesture.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm with Five-0. Take it easy there. I'm here to help you."

Jeffrey had his gun out and pointing at him with arms shaking in fear and desperation. His eyes were wide in shock as the three stared at each other in a moment of uncertain silence.

"Jeffrey Trewl? Rosalie Hagino?" Chin tried to get through to them with their names. "My name is Chin Ho Kelly, I'm a friend of Danny Williams...I'm here to help you." He focused on Trewl. "But first, you have to put the gun down...okay?...okay?"

Chin watched as the trembling weapon slowly shifted downwards and in the same instant, Jeffrey's legs gave out again and he sat down hard with a thump. Chin moved in quickly, still keeping his own gun in hand but held low and close to the side of his leg, non-threatening. He looked past and around them.

"Oh, Thank God, thank God, thank God..." Rosalie was whispering over and over again, looking up into Chin's face as he leaned down to help her. She was dirt smeared and pale beneath her Hawaiian complexion, terror and exhaustion showing in every line of her face. He recognized the jacket she was wearing as Danny's and feared the blood on it might be his too.

He reached out a hand to help her up and she grasped it with both of hers, twin tears of gratitude spilling over to leave clean trails through the mud streaks on her cheeks.

"You seen any sign of the gunmen?" he asked as he also helped Jeffrey Trewl to stand.

He shook his head. "No. We heard shooting some hours ago but we haven't seen anyone."

Chin knew that his friends had been in the middle of that shooting and he knew they were further behind but he couldn't wait for them. Steve had been very clear in his orders. He had to get these people out of here.

"Come on," he took Rosalie's arm. "It's gonna be okay. We have a little way still to go but it'll be easier to walk now and I'll help you." He smiled encouragingly at her and she nodded weakly, still hanging onto his hand.

As they set off, stumbling back along the broken trail, Aslan Baiev was ordering his younger accociate towards a low, well sheltered and protected viewpoint, while he settled himself onto a high rocky outcrop overlooking the sweeping coast. It had been a hard climb through the night but Baiev had found it thoroughly exhilarating too. It had stirred memories of his time in the mountains of Chechnya where he had first made his reputation as an assassin, where he'd discovered his skill and, yes, love for cold-blooded murder. Now, as he deftly fixed the bespoke, powerful telescopic sight to his rifle, he felt totally back in control and knew it wouldn't be much longer to wait.

A slight movement below drew his attention to the ribbon of rock just above the crashing waves and he smiled. With delicate fingers he caressed the focus of the sight. The tiny, sensitive movements belied the deadly power of the weapon snugged so warmly against his cheek. It was intimate, this moment before a kill.

The targets below stepped into the clarity of his cross-hairs. Baiev made a final minute adjustment, took a breath in and slowly, slowly let it out, releasing the tension and allowing his instincts to flow. Then he gently squeezed the trigger.

**TBC...**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** For this island adventure, it would have been _so_ much easier if I could just have drawn you all a map – I really hope you can see things as clearly as they play out in my own mind's eye.  
>Thank you for the reviews and favoritings, they are all very much appreciated. I do love to hear from you.<p>

**Summary:** The team faces a final showdown but it won't be the hardest battle.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Rosalie Hagino had lost her slippers. They had been her favorite pair too. She remembered, despite all the odds, they'd both been on her feet as they fled the villa and even when they'd climbed that escarpment as night fell. The thong had pulled from the first, the right one, as she had tumbled down the top half of the slope after that, but she'd shoved the post, with its once pretty flower decoration, back in and persevered. It split and broke completely soon after they'd left Detective Danny Williams to his fate and she had finally given up both of them in a fit of frustrated sobs. One was no good without the other.

Poor Jeffrey had looked at her then with bemused pity. Such footwear was far from ideal for the rain forest but, considering their situation, it had been better than nothing at all. The last part of their trek had been barefoot and even slower than before, her resulting cuts were bleeding and painful. The horrendous feelings of guilt at having left Detective Williams behind were worsened for Rosalie by the knowledge that she also was hindering young Jeffrey's speed so badly.

The startling arrival of Chin Ho Kelly had finally given her a glimmer of hope and Rosalie had drawn on her last reserves to step out as best she could with the two men at her sides, until a razor sharp sliver of volcanic rock sliced into her toe and she buckled. Her escorts immediately stooped to catch her weight and a high velocity bullet zinged over their heads so closely that they all felt it split the air.

Chin knew the sound immediately even as the round hit the rock behind them with a sharp thwack, and peppered them with a spray of glittering reddish colored dust.

"Get down!" he shouted, thrusting the others over the lip of the rocks beside them. Another bullet took a chunk out of the rough edge inches from his hand just as he too dived underneath.

Any thoughts of daring to look up for their assailant were lost as rapid automatic machine gun fire then slammed into the ground feet from where they hid. Trapped beneath their parapet, Rosalie and Trewl huddled with their arms over their heads as Chin grabbed for his satellite phone.

Steve answered and even before Chin spoke, he heard the staccato beat of the attack.

"Chin!"

"We're pinned down!" Chin shouted, flinching away from the ferocity of strafing that seemed to be getting ever closer to them. He was prevented from explaining any further as more rounds gouged a furrow inches from his forehead.

Moving the handset slightly, Steve cocked an ear and even through the constant shuffling of the forest that still surrounded them, and the hiss of the sea beyond, he could make out the insistent crackle of machine gun fire happening somewhere ahead, interspersed occasionally with the harder single cracks of a second high-powered weapon. If he could hear it, it wasn't far away. Amazingly, he and Danny had somehow almost caught up to them and from what Chin had said, he'd found Trewl and Rosalie Hagino. Steve's heart hammered hard at the thought of what danger they were all in.

"At least two guns," Chin shouted. The information coming in tiny increments between rounds. "One rifle, one machine gun." Another break as Steve heard the ping of splintering rock and a woman's high cry of fear. "We've got nowhere to go. We're pinned," he repeated.

Chin was usually the calmest member of Steve's whole team. They teased him for his Zen-like demeanor. On most days the word impassive could have been invented for him but now, Steve could hear the tight thrum of real desperation in the familiar voice. It was urgent and raw as he called for help again. "Steve!"

"Hold on Chin, I'm not far, I'm on my way, Brah." The firing of Chin's own weapon was his only reply and Steve cursed loudly as he thrust the phone away, juggling with his Sig and fumbling with his only free hand as his other still held onto Danny.

"Go."

Danny was looking up at him. His fever-bright, unfocused eyes glinted in puffy, dark-smudged sockets and held no room for argument. The repeated words were mumbled huskily through broken lips but were equally determined. "I heard... Chin's in trouble. Go, Steve."

For the thousandth time, feeling the prickle of a warning in the hairs of his neck, Steve chanced a glance around them and behind, then hunched himself further down under Danny's armpit. "Not leaving you behind, Man...No way...C'mon we've got to pick it up."

Danny wanted to argue but his mouth felt as though it was stuffed with cotton wool and while his his mind was shouting that this was wrong, this would cost them all..._Just fuckin' leave me here!..._he couldn't get the sentences out before Steve hoisted him higher and began a fast lopsided run.

Danny's legs would not co-operate. His body was shutting down and nothing was working as it should. His co-ordination was off and his feet dragged and snagged but Steve pulled him on, carrying his entire weight like a drunk in a three-legged obstacle race.

It was a several hundred yards before Steve could make out the crashing of waves ahead. The rainforest was finally, gradually thinning out and he could see a wall of gray brightness beyond, like french windows left open for an airing at the end of a dim room. The visual implications were overcome however by the persistent sounds of gunfire now coming louder and from further to their left.

Hillside and seaside met here in a margin of open space. Chin and his charges were barely visible as they scrambled away backwards under a tiny overhang of rock, left behind where the sea had bitten chunks out of the land. The sill was about to run out and the machine gun fire that targeted them was relentless, designed to force them out for the sniper to pick them off from above. Try as he might, Steve couldn't pinpoint exactly where that particular danger lay but he knew he had to draw fire from Chin and the others if they were ever going to be able to move at all.

He made his assessment in an instant and finally had to relinquish his hold on Danny.

Danny was aware they had halted but could not raise his head. For him, their last desperate run had dissolved into a sickening whirl of colors and sensations that he was finding it impossible to process. The world swung crazily and seemed to be fading out to leave everything muted and distant. Everything but the hot pain that was again sneaking through him, building once more like the swelling waves ahead of them, threatening to break over him, to drown him.

He felt himself being lowered, saw the blurred lines of Steve's face moving in towards his, saw his lips moving and knew they were making sounds but he wasn't hearing them, couldn't understand. The fizzing in his head and behind his eyes was filling him up. He struggled to draw in air.

Dumping his pack, Steve was on his knees too, talking to his partner even he pulled out a second weapon and stuffed extra clips into every pocket.

"Stay still, Danny. Just hold on...I'll be back, okay...I'll be right back." Steve took in his partner's now rolling eyes and just hoped he could understand enough. He didn't have time to check him but he could see Danny's condition had worsened considerably. He quickly took his face in both his hands and tried to will his strength into him. It hurt to leave him, went against every thing he'd struggled for, but there was no choice.

"Just. Hold. On."

Darting away from his cover, Steve squeezed off six rapid shots in the direction of the machine gun and, within seconds, was rewarded with a splatter of return fire hitting the vegetation beside him. This was what he'd intended and he kept up his own assault, trying to deny Mineyev the time to see where the others might go.

Chin heard the distraction of Steve's weapon and immediately seized what would be their only chance. A quick check then, hauling Rosalie Hagino behind him, he leapt up over the lip of rock and towed her with him into the cornice shadow of the hillside. If the unseen sniper had a highpoint, Chin hoped staying right underneath his arc of visibility might offer them some protection. Trewl followed them and the three ran along the thin trail towards the tiny inlet where Chin had left the launch.

"That's it! That's it!" Jeffrey exclaimed as they skidded around the rocky ridge and saw the jetty ahead. "I knew it was here...I was right...I told you...I knew it was here..." He was shaking Rosalie's arm as he held it to support her, his voice high with excitement and desperation.

On the launch, Sgt Gerritt Dole crouched low behind the canopy of the cockpit and waited. He'd heard the gunfire start up and it had taken everything in his training not to defy Chin's orders and stop himself from running ashore to give back-up, but when he spotted the three running figures finally appear, he was ready.

Breathing hard, Chin saw Dole braced on the boat. He held out his arm to halt the others, who bent over, whooping for breath as he pressed them back against rock. With a wave, he caught Dole's attention and pointed at him, then, with two fingers to his own eyes and a gesture up to the hillside, he conveyed his wishes. Dole gave a nod, trained his weapon and immediately opened fire in the vague direction that Chin had indicated. From his position he wasn't exactly sure where the gunmen were but this was simply covering fire and, with a quick backward glance, Chin pushed on, out into the open.

On Baiev's instruction, Sergey Minayev had positioned himself well and was able to track the movements of the three who were his initial targets. It was his role to flush them out for Baiev and he took a childlike pleasure in spraying the surrounding area with hundreds of rounds, replenishing mag after mag. He was no expert marksman but he didn't need to be. He relished the vibrations that the brutal weapon shook through his body. Suddenly however, he became aware that he was himself being pretty well targeted too. He turned to the new threat.

Slamming in new clips as he ran, Steve was maintaining his fire and moving forwards.

"Gotcha!"

Dodging from behind a large root to a neighboring thicket of brush, Steve had finally pinpointed the machine gun's location. He could take him out if he got just a little closer. Inching slowly around the thorny stems, he ducked out, aimed and fired.

Something burning slammed hard into the back of his left arm and spun him around. The movement saved his life, as another bullet from behind missed where his head had just been by mere inches.

Steve dropped and instinctively grabbed at his bicep where blood was already pulsing. His vision whited out for an instant but he moved fast to throw himself into the nearest bush, raking his face over its thick branches and scrabbling away just as another volley from what sounded like a semi-automatic handgun shredded the leaves behind him. _Shit!_ It was now Steve who was pinned. The gun man he had felt following them had finally joined the party.

Vasily Rosanov saw his first shot hit and cursed furiously when the others missed but he wasn't letting up, continuing to fire and preventing Steve from moving to better cover. He'd seen where he'd gone and, with Minayev and his machine gun still able to hold him in place from ahead, Rosanov was already counting his coup. He would take particular satisfaction from killing this man, he was a worthy adversary.

Danny felt Steve's absence like another terrible pain. Beyond the burning pulses throbbing around his body, the lack of Steve's presence beside him, sliced through like an icy blast. The gunfire was loud now and he turned to try and track it. Blearily, he saw movements ahead..._Chin?._.. He saw his friend making his bid for escape, followed by other familiar shapes, silhouetted against the blinding backdrop of the ocean..._Go Rosie!..._Danny felt a wash of relief and fear for her.

Suddenly, another blast came from his right. Just a few feet away, a man was stepping out of the treeline and aiming up directly to where Steve had gone, firing fast and with the deliberation of a pro.

"No!" In advancing to help Chin and the others, Steve had left himself dangerously vulnerable from their night time stalker.

Taking every ounce of his strength to move, Danny reached around to his back. His hand clumsily brushed over his side and he cried out at the pain. His fingers felt like they were gloved – fat, useless sausages that wouldn't do what they should and he fumbled at the butt of his Sig. He drew it out and heart pounding in his chest, jaw steeling with determination, he forced his arms to raise and aimed shakily to where he'd seen the man. He was gone. Danny's vision narrowed into a spinning tunnel and he couldn't keep up with the world around him, his self control was crumbling.

"No-no-no-no-no-no..." Hissing and shivering with the effort he forced himself up to his knees to follow the sound of gunfire.

Panting and blinking through sweat, Danny made out a vague outline that shouldn't be there and directed his shaking hands towards it. The Sig's recoil lifted his aim wildly but now that he had a finger on the trigger, he couldn't let up. With a grasp like the rigor of death, he simply kept on firing until the dull click of an empty clip should have told him he could do no more. It took half a dozen more empty clicks before his numb hands finally released to drop the weapon and Danny's slumped body fell down on top of it.

The shots didn't hit, they were nowhere near, but they caught Rosanov off guard. He had discounted the blond cop as too badly wounded to present any immediate threat, as already too far gone. Instead, he'd focused his attention solely upon Steve. He didn't live to regret it.

Biting back the flare of pain from the wound in his arm, the former SEAL heard the sound of Danny's weapon behind him and moved fast. Rolling out from beneath a vast flowering hibiscus, he fired as he went and his aim was true.

Rosanov was hit by five rounds in the chest and face, their force lifting him off his feet and throwing him back, his eyes open wide in shock until they disappeared into the smashed mess of his skull and brain matter. He smacked hard against a tree and slid down, leaving a bloody trail slimed behind him.

Turning back, and knowing there were still two other gunmen in play, Steve took off after Chin, blood dripping down his arm and from the ends of his fingers as he ran, Mineyev's rounds chewing up the ground at his heels. Somersaulting a fallen log, he skidded around a bend in the trail and took in the scene.

Rosalie and Trewl were already on the jetty, staggering against the undulation of the waves beneath and balancing across its broken boards. In their tattered clothes and exhausted state they looked like defeated refugees of a terrible disaster. Chin was there too, behind them and working his way backwards while firing up constantly towards where the machine-gun was now once more turning on them. Chin held a gun in each hand and looked like something out of a western movie as he shot back over and over again. Cover also came from the officer aboard the police launch waiting in place for an escape that Steve could see, would be impossible.

They were horribly exposed. Even if the machine gun could be taken out, there was another worse threat. The flat slap of rifle shots told Steve the sniper was simply taking his time to perfect his altered aim, but now they were committed they had no alternative.

Assessing the most immediate danger to the group on the jetty, Steve also fired as he ran and whether it was his round, or Chin's, or even Dole's that finally hit their mark, they all heard a scream. They all kept up their barrage until a man's body tumbled out from beneath the treeline in a cartwheel of tumbling limbs. With a glint of light on metal, his MP5 also flew up in an arc of its own.

Steve immediately turned his aim upwards for the next threat but from below the overhang he had no angle on the sniper's nest. None of them did and he knew with a horrible certainty that they were too late.

Aslan Baiev knew it too.

From his rocky platform he had a perfect view and, for those below, he was untouchable. _This is why I do what I do, _he congratulated himself_._ With the adjustment controls, he'd already made his corrections for windage and bullet elevation. He fiddled with the illumination of the reticules until the cross-hairs were bright and needle sharp. He would pick off every last one of these pathetic people. From his position, he couldn't fail. None would escape, he could take his time. But he had his priorities, he was a professional after all.

Baiev inched forwards again on his belly and his elbows, settling against the grip of his favorite weapon, its long barrel pointing out and down, following the unsteady progress of Jeffrey Trewl along the jetty. It would be as simple as a fair ground stall. He pressed his face to the warm walnut grip and peered down the perfect sight. The useless noisy slaps of rounds that would never hit him flew from the three guns below and his mouth tightened into a thin grin of contentment at the thought of taking them all out, one by one. After this. After he claimed his first prize.

One sharp crack sounded above the noise of the waves. It echoed and bounced back on itself between the castellated sides of rock rising over the boathouse doors below. With his years of battle experience, Steve knew this was it. He whipped around expecting to see someone dying but everyone was still in place, frozen in their positions just like him.

The shot had not come from above them. It had come from behind them, from the sea.

Aslan Baiev never saw it.

The tungsten tipped bullet hit him in the left temple and blew out the back of his head. Even though he was already lying down, the impact jerked his body so hard that it fell sideways. The rock beneath him crumbled and everyone below watched as his limp corpse toppled over into nothingness, spinning in the air before crashing into a ragged jutting edge, bouncing, then falling again. It landed on the ground at the base of the rock face with a sickening thud that reverberated in the ground beneath the feet of the shocked witnesses.

Two hundred meters away, Kono nodded in satisfaction.

She'd ridden the swell, read the wind, focused through the mist, said a silent prayer and taken her chance.

"Holy shit!"

A young uniformed officer breathed in awe next to her. Others in the four launches alongside them shared the sentiment. Kono closed her eyes in a moment of gratitude then cocked a brow and gestured for them all to move in.

The rumbling engines broke the spell on shore and everyone there whirled around to see the arrival of the back-up that had arrived only just in time. Fifteen HPD officers jumped ashore, some running to help the civilians, others fanning out to check the area and the bodies.

Steve was making calculations. Two dead here, two back in the ravine, one where he'd left...

"Chin!" His shout cut through the action and hearing his urgency, Chin spun round immediately to run towards him, then alongside him, as Steve sprinted off.

"I need help with Danny," he shouted as they ran.

They came to the clearing and Steve slid to a halt where Danny lay sprawled on his front, face down in the dirt. Last time, in the ravine, when he'd turned him over he'd moved, this time he lay still.

"Danny!" he cried.

"Oh Brah" Chin whispered.

It was the first time he'd seen their friend for himself and it was shocking what the last day and a half had done to him. Filthy and bloodied, there didn't seem to any part of him unpainted, uncut or unbruised. As Steve gently pulled him over, Danny's head rolled with the momentum and his hands flopped heavily to his sides. He seemed boneless.

Chin watched as Steve put trembling hands to his face, his own blood running down his arm in rivulets and dripping to mix with Danny's. He saw the desperation in the tender touch and spoke up quickly. McGarrett needed the reassurance.

"He's breathing Steve, it's okay he's still breathing...he's alive." Chin had to repeat it, to get Steve to register the truth of it. Danny was not dead but the Navy SEAL, normally so tough, so capable, seemed to be having difficulty coping with what he saw in him now.

Yes, Danny was breathing but only in shallow panting breaths. His lips were parted and his cheeks hollowed with each ragged inhale. "Danny, s'okay Buddy, we're here...Chin's here too...We're going to get you out of here now..." Chin could hear the tremble of worry in Steve's encouragement as they moved to lift him together.

Steve carefully shifted around to his shoulders and Chin gathered his legs, his body a dead weight between them. Before they'd taken more than a few steps, five uniformed officers ran to join them and spread themselves out to share the load, carrying Danny quickly along the path, his arms hanging down and flopping in a grotesque mimicry of his normal hand waving characteristic.

Steve nodded to the nearest launch as they staggered onto the dock's broken boards, eager hands helping to lift Danny down and lay him on the long bench seat. A maritime patrol officer who knew the vessel, quickly pulled out an extension from underneath, designed to make it wider for transporting injured seamen. Or bodies. Those watching the urgent movements from further away still weren't sure which description applied to the broken man now being settled on board. Rosalie Hagino strained against the comforting arms of an officer to try to catch a glimpse, to know the detective's condition.

Kono leapt down into the boat and tears sprang to her eyes as she crouched at Danny's side. "We've got you Brah, we've got you," she murmured against his ear.

"You want me to stay and oversee..." Chin started to ask, but Steve interrupted.

"No," he said sharply. "We're a team, we stay together." It was suddenly so very important to him. Danny's family was vital to him. They must all be there.

"Fuel?" he demanded of the nearest officers.

"Filled her up, she's ready to go," Gerritt Dole responded quickly and then pointed to the storage under the seats. "There's a medical kit under there too." He stood by, ready to release the mooring line.

Chin was already gunning the engine as Steve remembered the one final loose end. "There was a man at the main landing on the southern point..." he called up at the line of concerned faces looking down into the boat.

"We got him too." It was Kono who answered, her hand still laid against Danny's sweat drenched face.

"Sakata had kept him under surveillance and radioed us as we came in from that direction. I sent two launches in and apparently he gave up without a fight. Said he was just the helicopter pilot." The noise of the revving diesel engines nearly drowned out Kono's explanation but Steve heard enough.

For an instant he hesitated at the mention of the helicopter. If it was big enough to have brought that death squad here, it would be big enough to carry them, and there was no doubt that it would be quicker to transport Danny back to Uahu that way. But, looking up, he judged it would simply take too long to climb back to the top of the island and the clouds up there were still just as thick, sitting over its peak like a suffocating shroud. No, Steve had to get Danny to a hospital as soon as possible. It would have to be on the water.

He gave the final nod to Dole who let go of the line and Chin pushed the throttle up. The launch lifted and the Five-0 team roared away over the waves.

Steve immediately joined Kono at Danny's side as she examined the field dressings that he'd applied back in the forest.

"Should we change these?" she asked distractedly. "Look at this. He's already burning up. And we should try and get some fluids into him. All this blood. And his breathing's not good." Seeing Danny's condition, Kono felt completely out of her depth. She glanced up at Steve and for the first time, noticed his own injury.

"Shit! You need to get something on that too, Boss."

Steve reached over and grabbed up a thick dressing from the boat's kit and tore it open with his teeth, gesturing impatiently with his head towards Danny as he did so. "It's a through and through, didn't hit anything vital. Just help Danny."

Kono knew better than to argue with him, even if the holes front and back in the top half of Steve's bicep were nasty, must hurt like hell and were still bleeding. She knew he would only say he'd had worse, so she left him to handle it himself while she looked more closely at Danny's injuries. Chin glanced back over his shoulder, and strained to hear what they were saying from the cockpit as he drove the launch on hard, his legs braced apart to ride the thrust of their progress.

Kono noticed the darkness around the edges of the bandages on Danny's torso and recognized the implications. "I don't think we should mess with these any more, Brah," she said, addressing Danny himself, even though he was showing no response. "But hey, Danny...Danny... here, here, take a sip..." She held a water bottle to his mouth and dribbled some between his parted lips. It was difficult to hold it steady as the launch bounced and bucked but she thought she saw him swallow.

Danny was lost in a world of torment where everything hurt and everything burned and everything was drifting away from him. Fragments of images; snippets of words; visions of Grace and Rachel; Steve and his friends; his past and his present; his emotions and fears, all were spinning off beyond his reach..._Help me...Please, help me..._Somewhere in a far away distance,he was aware of a soft touch and soft words and he needed more, was desperate for it, but his body shuddered with tremors and he couldn't collect his fractured thoughts, couldn't voice them.

Kono saw when his eyes flickered open into pale slits, and put her face close to his. The tiny puffs of his breath blew against her as his chest heaved beneath her touch but even though he seemed to look at her, there was no recognition, just a frightening blankness. She tried again with the water but Danny suddenly writhed and choked and the liquid spewed out with his painful coughs. The wretched sounds left her clutching at his hand to help him through it.

_Helpme-Helpme-Helpme... _

Steve was beside him again in a flash. "Easy Danno, easy...we're here...I'm here...easy..." It was his voice that Danny clung to and used as an anchor.

Kono reached for an insulation blanket and tucked it around him to protect him from the buffeting wind, sealing in the fever that was growing in him... _Hot..cold...burning..._Danny was beyond understanding anything that was happening to him, but not beyond the reassurance of Steve's firm grasp on his arm, then on his neck as he moved to press his palm against his throat and jaw. Through his haze of confusion, Danny knew that presence, trusted it, and curled his body towards it.

For the rest of the journey, Chin and Kono watched over the pair and wondered at the connection these two shared. For more than two hours, Danny and Steve remained in place like that, with Steve crouched at his head, alternately pleading, coaxing and threatening in a low, gravelly voice, until finally, first the island then the marina came into view.

Chin barely slowed until the last moment when he angled the launch expertly and its arcing wake threw furious sailors and swimmers around like bobbing corks. An ambulance and a trauma doctor were already standing by and Danny was stretchered off within minutes.

Chin helped Steve stand, bracing a strong arm around his waist as he straightened painfully from the cramped position he'd held for so long. The young doctor looked on the verge of telling them there was no room in the ambulance, that they should follow them, that he needed space to work on their partner, but one glance told him that would be a battle he could not win.

He took in the bloody bandage on Steve's arm and the glazed, pained exhaustion in his face, and put aside his previous intentions. While the Commander's injury didn't appear to be life threatening, he instinctively knew separating these two men right now could be.

Chin and Kono saw the doors close on them and, with lights flashing and sirens whooping, they watched the ambulance disappear. Each of them feared they might not see Danny alive again.

**TBC...**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Here's the last and the longest but there's an epilogue in here too. Thank you for sticking with me.

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><p><strong>Summary:<strong> "Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are." Arthur Golden, _Memoirs of a Geisha._

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><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

A television screen flickered quietly in the corner of the large waiting area. The local station had caught every angle of every official event during the President's busy day in Hawaii and the presenters gushed with enthusiasm for it, their pride clear even though the sound had been turned down low. Bands had played, crowds had cheered, hulas had been danced and, by late afternoon, a memorial had been proudly unveiled in bright sunshine. Steve had hardly taken in any of the other footage being shown but those clear blue skies behind those beaming veterans' faces eventually drew his attention.

The weather had finally cleared in time to mark the sacrifice of so many in the past..._Great. Why the hell couldn't it have done that in time to save just one today? _

Steve's head was full of bitter 'what-ifs' and 'if-onlys' as he went over and over the circumstances that had conspired to end with him sitting here now waiting to hear if his partner, his closest friend, would survive. Seeing so many people smiling joyously on the screen made him sick and he turned away to pick once more at the flakes of dried blood that he alone could still see stuck in his nail beds, despite the fact he'd scrubbed them clean. _Danno's blood on my hands..._

Once Danny had been torn away from him to be taken straight into surgery, Steve had numbly succumbed to his own treatment. It filled the time and while the cleaning and stitching of the bullet wound to his arm was painful, he wouldn't allow himself to even acknowledge it. His thoughts were drawn unrelentingly to treatments, medications and life-saving procedures that were happening elsewhere... _It's all out_ _of your hands now, _he told himself as he clenched at his fingers. And that seemed ironic too.

Steve hated this feeling of helplessness... "_You,my friend, are a control freak"_...He could hear Danny's voice in his head even when he wasn't there. If he had been, Steve wouldn't have been able to deny it, and that was what was driving him so crazy. This whole mess had flown out of control so damned fast and Danny had paid the price.

"None of this is your fault, you know that right?"

Chin's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. Kono's eyes were on him too, but Steve could only shake his head wearily by way of an answer. He just didn't have the words to voice what he was really feeling. How could he ever explain the weight of responsibility he felt, or the heavy dread of any further loss in his life, of _this_ loss. He had come to rely on Danny for so much, he simply couldn't face the possibility of life without him. The thought left him shaky and weak, more so even than his own exhaustion and injury.

It was close to midnight before a doctor eventually approached them. The waiting room had emptied through the evening and now they stood up together in a hush of anticipation. He shook hands with Steve and introduced himself as David Tyler, the surgeon who had just spent nearly nine hours working on Danny in the operating theater.

"Detective Williams is out of surgery and being transferred to the ICU," he said, looking around the three faces before him. He knew who these three were and knew they dealt with crises everyday but this was their friend, this was personal, especially it seemed for the commander of this team. Steve McGarrett looked stricken with something beyond fear over what he was about to hear, so David Tyler gave it to them straight.

"I'm afraid his condition is still extremely serious. We were was able to remove the bullet. It had traveled through the tissue and lodged against the lower part of his lung. It was rather tricky to patch. We also traced and removed the fragments of bone from the ribs it fractured when he was hit." Tyler ran a hand back through his graying hair and adjusted his glasses. It had already been a long evening and it wasn't over.

"I think you are probably aware that a serious infection had already taken hold before we got Detective Williams into surgery. Considering the conditions as I understand them, it's not surprising." He could see from their eyes that they did indeed know the critical nature of the threat.

"Well, it was a lengthy process to remove the debris from his various wounds...a difficult job...a lot of glass and other materials, organisms and such. It was an intricate procedure with so many injuries and with so much time having passed before you could get him to us." Tyler was aware that his words might sound accusatory and didn't mean them to, so he hurried on.

"I believe we have successfully cleaned out all the alien material but his body is still under attack and he is extremely weak. We are pushing strong antibiotics into him but these things can take a while to work. It's not clear how well he's responding yet. At this point I really can't give you any sort of prognosis, I'm afraid."

A silence fell as Steve, Chin and Kono digested the news. It was Steve who broke it.

"Can we see him?"

They were led to the ICU but were not allowed beyond the glass wall of the small room where Danny lay surrounded by the machines that were the only things keeping him breathing, keeping his organs functioning, keeping him alive.

Nurses moved around him in a well practiced ballet of precise checks and adjustments. Laid out flat on his back, it was difficult to even see his face beneath an oxygen mask and all the tubing and wires. More were attached to, or trailed over his bare chest and disappeared beneath the starkly white bandages around his torso. Above his head, a monitor showed the worryingly unreliable rhythms of his body.

"His temperature hasn't yet stabilized, and we're having trouble with his blood pressure and heart beat, both are still rather erratic," Tyler explained. "I'm sure you want to be with him but we need to be monitoring his condition extremely closely. I'm sorry, we can't allow you to stay here now, you would be in the way of his treatment."

Chin and Kono looked towards Steve and expected a growl of denial. His eyes hadn't left Danny but they narrowed and blinked fast at the surgeon's words. His whole face twitched with emotions he was trying to keep in check but eventually he gave a short nod. His weariness made it difficult to even move that much.

The case that had brought them here was complicated, international and far reaching. Despite the hour, as Commander of the Five-0 task force, Steve still had responsibilities, still needed to complete provisional reports and prepare briefings – they would not be able to keep it quiet for long. Although he hated the thought of leaving he knew that, more than anything else, right now Danny needed this expert medical help and he had to accept what they were being told.

Chin saw Steve was struggling and spoke up for him. "You'll let us know if his condition changes. Anything. You let us know." It wasn't a request and David Tyler nodded.

Steve found his own voice. "I'll be back." It was croaky and barely there but to the others, its tone and the look on his face was easily recognizable. For now, Steve would give ground to hold ground, but then, they knew, there would be no shifting him.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

The White House press corps works like a pack of wolves. Within its hierarchy, there are elders to be respected and ambitious young pretenders vying for attention and opportunity. Those who survive and thrive are journalists with as much love for the cut and thrust of politics as those they follow. Amongst their envious colleagues they're seen as a breed apart – talented, quick, brutal and privileged. Nobody gets to travel as much as the White House Press Corps and it's usually in pretty nice conditions. They're looked after, and the trip to Hawaii had fallen very nicely for them.

Having filed all their reports and their copy, having seen Air Force One take off, and safe in the knowledge that the Washington news calendar held no further important events until after the weekend, most of the pack had opted to stay on and enjoy the islands for a couple of extra days. The Hilton's Pool Bar rang to the party atmosphere of a job well done, as top buttons were loosened and ties gave way to leis.

The cocktails were already flowing when the raucous exchange of political war stories and in-gags began to be interrupted by the beeping chorus of cell phones. A tinny two-tone here, a sharp single note there. Even a witty recording of a bird call, cut off in its prime as though the subject had fallen of its perch. Text messages arrived on the screens of journalist after journalist and the party was over, the place began to empty.

News editors of the country's best known newspapers and stations had got wind of another great story and were leaping at the chance to put their usually stuck-up specialists to the test. Through agencies and stringers, word was filtering to the mainland of a huge case right under their normally rather superior noses. It involved Russian mobsters, gruesome murders, drugs, guns, computer fraud, girls, an heroic fight for survival, and all in the most perfect of exotic settings.

Top political correspondents suddenly found themselves being asked to become crime correspondents. Seeing it as an opportunity to prove their broader credentials, they put aside their flowers, their colorful drinks and their plans for relaxation and, as one, they rose to the occasion.

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 **

Rosalie Hagino became an overnight sensation. In the days after her rescue, while still bearing the brutal evidence of her ordeal, she became the story teller everyone wanted to hear and see. Her pregnant daughter helped her with her hair, placing a beautiful white hibiscus bloom behind her ear, and together, they chose a bright red dress and matching lipstick that looked fresh and pretty against the cool plants of the lanai where she held court from a throne-sized wicker chair. The journalists and crews filed up her garden path and she made them all welcome with a warm smile, fresh lemonade and iced tea. All except one.

Kono appointed herself as Rosalie's handler to ensure nothing slipped through that could prejudice any future case arising from the investigations still going on. It wasn't too hard. Most of the reporters simply wanted the emotional details of her personal experience and understood the restrictions. Rosalie told it so well. With her bravery and fear still evident, and the bruises and cuts still livid, the cameras focused in close, as tears welled in her eyes when she spoke of how she had thought she would die and how she was saved.

Inevitably, Kono ended up attracting plenty of attention herself. The mainland reporters quickly became fascinated with the whole back-story of a beautiful former professional surfing champion becoming a cop. On the internet, there was a sudden flurry of interest in old competition photos of her riding Pipeline in tiny bikinis.

After too many questions about her change of career and how the rush of a one-eighty spin compared with the rush of a sniper shot, Kono made her excuses and slid inside the Hagino home to listen through the closed shutters. The press were left ranged at Rosalie's scarred feet, like children gathered there for a bedtime story.

The Governor's own press office and the HPD were more than helpful with the specifics of the identities of the assassins and their hit squad. The FBI also stepped up with information on what they knew of the Russian Mob and its influences. It spawned much interest and many follow up reports on the growing power of the criminal gangs. More arrests would follow but for now, for all, the good publicity was welcome.

One particular journalist, however, was not.

The Island Sun was shut out of every press conference, and every interview. Press releases never made it to the newspaper's inbox. Donald Stuart was reduced to rehashing what he could crib from other peoples' copy, whining around the edges of the reporter packs like a stray with scabies. When he, like every other journalist on the story, requested updates on Detective Danny Williams' condition, every cop, nurse and press officer simply put the phone down on him. He knew he was beaten and didn't even try to approach Kono or Chin. Steve McGarrett was unavailable to everyone.

On the first day, Steve appeared alongside the Governor, looking exhausted and drawn but every inch the hero the press wanted, but he was determined to lay that mantel where it belonged. He was going to right some wrongs. The Chief of Police chose not to be present.

Chin had forced him to throw a clean shirt over his blood stained vest but otherwise, Steve was still in the clothes he'd worn for the past two days. With his tattooed arm in a sling and a dark shadow of stubble across his square jaw line, he stood tall and, in military fashion, succinctly outlined the basics of how the Five-0 investigation had developed and ended.

In the hush that followed his delivery, despite his weariness, Steve drew himself even more upright and cast his hard gaze around the room.

"I am extremely proud of the work of the Five-0 task force. Of my team. Not even a week ago we were being vilified by some members of the press, members who, I should point out, are _not_ here today. One of my team in particular was unfairly singled out as the subject of attack, despite the great work he has always done for the State of Hawaii. I want to make it clear, that it is only through the efforts and bravery of Detective Danny Williams that this case has reached this successful conclusion and that no _more_ innocent people were killed. As you've heard, Danny Williams is currently lying in hospital fighting for his own life." Steve turned slightly to address the Governor, as well as the rest of the audience. "If you'll excuse me now, I'm going to go be with him."

With a nod of permission from the Governor, Steve stepped away before the reporters could call out their questions. He had remained unreachable since then, except to a select few.

"Uncle Steve?"

"Hey Gracie."

"Did he wake up yet?"

The question broke him up a little more each time he heard it. Even though she had asked it every day for the past four days, it was still as timid as the first time, as though Grace was afraid of the answer, afraid to hear that her dad would never wake up again.

Steve crouched down and wrapped her in long hug and then allowed her to take up the position he'd adopted as his own, just as soon as the doctors had allowed him the access he'd so badly needed.

From the low chair at Danny's bedside, Grace leaned over to kiss his cheek, then rested her head gently against his face, brushing across the dressings on his ear and neck. She slipped her arm over his chest, taking great care not to dislodge any of the monitoring wires still attached there or the criss-cross patterns of ugly, dark threaded sutures. Her tanned healthy skin lying against the mottled blacks and blues of his contusions looked so wrong.

Steve stood back and watched as she lifted a cloth from a bowl next to the bed, squeezed out the chilled water and gently pressed it against Danny's clammy brow, just as the nurses had shown her how. Everyone realized the young girl needed to feel she was helping too, but so far, even her childish efforts had not succeeded.

Danny remained gripped in the hold of the infection still wreaking havoc on his body. Steve had looked on helplessly as the fever seethed and rolled beneath his skin. Three terrifying seizures had set alarms ringing and medical staff running but luckily, Grace had not been there to witness them.

Given the doctors' warnings, Rachel only brought her for short visits. She was terrified that their daughter would be present when the bouncing line on the screen over Danny's bed, flattened. Grace didn't fully understand just how sick he was, and everyone who saw them together tried, for her sake, to mirror the hope she exhibited.

"There you go, Danno," Grace said as she dabbed at Danny's face and hairline. "That should cool you down some more. And when you get cooler, you'll wake up properly again, see. And you should too, 'cause I have lots to tell you about from school, and I need you to help me build something for my science project. I won a merit for that story I told you about and I want to read it to you 'cause I put in a really funny thing about you, but first of all you have to get better..." She continued her concerned chatter as she wet the cloth and began again.

Rachel sniffed and Steve turned to see her quickly swiping at her eyes.

"He's fighting," he reassured her quietly. "Danny's a fighter."

It was the same line that had been rolling through his head during the many hours he had spent here, sitting and doing just what Gracie was doing now.

The nursing staff were doing all they could, monitoring and varying the combinations of drugs and treatments, constantly trying to find what would work. Cooling pads had been placed around Danny's shuddering body and the room temperature was kept purposefully low, to the point that any visitors needed to wear extra layers if they stayed any length of time. Chin and Kono had brought Steve a couple of extra sweat shirts when they delivered his own change of clothes and toiletries. He had not yet been home, preferring to sleep and shower at the hospital until Danny woke..._He's going to wake up...he has to wake up..._

At times it seemed as though the antibiotics dripping into Danny's arm might be having an affect. Nurses noted down figures and sent encouraging smiles Steve's way but, each time, the heat rolled in again like an unstoppable tide, lapping up his body and soaking him in perspiration. Dehydration was a serious concern. His chest rose only a fraction with each panting breath, his lips parted and moved beneath the cannula. He was not conscious but he was not exactly still. Tiny jerky movements and gasps attested to the battle he was fighting. His head tossed a little and his lashes flickered as his closed eyes darted frantically.

Steve had watched it all until he couldn't stay upright any longer and fell asleep with his head on the bed and his hand on Danny's arm. He woke with a start when another alarm whistled and he was left to pace back and forth, his trembling hands running over his face and neck, until the staff got his partner's racing heart back under control. Only then did his own settle.

As a military commander, Steve had seen men injured before, comrades and friends. Some hadn't made it. Steve had dealt with every loss and injury as he had to, as any senior officer must, but this, this he was finding harder to deal with and he feared it might just break him - the possibility was a persistent and viciously taunting voice that he had to silence in order to function at all. While it was Danny who always claimed to feel the odd man out, to be a fish out of water in the islands, Steve knew now that the only reason he had himself been able to settle into a life back in Hawaii once more was the circle of people he'd gathered around him, those he'd allowed to become close. None more so than Danny.

Doctors made warning noises about the possible long term damage such a sustained temperature could have, especially on the brain as a result of the seizures. When Danny's body twisted and bucked with the cruel contortions, Steve leaned in and held onto his hand but the grip that was returned was simply the result of cording, knotting muscles. Steve was told it was unlikely that Danny knew anything that was happening to him.

Now, as he watched Grace hugging her father, Steve was inclined to agree. Nothing else was likely to give Danny a stronger incentive to wake, but he remained in the same state of semi-consciousness, pasty and pale. Unresponsive. Lost to them.

"But he's got to _want_ to fight. What if he doesn't want to..."

Steve glanced at Rachel again. Her eyes were still glistening with tears as she stared at Danny.

"I always thought he was...a fighter, like you said," she went on, keeping her voice low so Grace couldn't hear. "In his job, in our marriage...and after." She looked up at Steve and knew he understood what she was talking about. She knew if Danny had confided in anyone about their renewed, then disastrously failed-again relationship, it was him. "But Steve, that picture from before, that story, when he told that stupid, drugged up idiot to shoot him...I _know_ him, but that didn't look like him, not the fighter I knew. That looked like he was...like he didn't want to..."

"He was hurting that day," Steve interrupted her.

Rachel looked blank and Steve suddenly wanted to reveal everything he knew, to explain and defend his friend.

"He saw you."

Danny hadn't told her but it was important, imperative, to Steve that now Rachel should know what had set him on a downward spiral that he'd hardly had a chance to recover from before finding himself in the subsequent trauma and present crisis.

"You and Stan. The baby. Grace. He saw you _all_ that day, saw what he'd lost."

He could forgive her lack of imagination before. A new baby, a new start - she was't heartless, just preoccupied but now he saw the second the realization hit her. With the sudden shock of understanding, Rachel's dark eyes widened and her tears escaped. "Oh my God!" She gasped as though she had taken a blow and Steve was instantly reminded of that moment back on the quayside and of Danny's own reaction. These two knew each other so well.

Grace heard her and turned to see the stark horror on her mother's face. She hadn't heard what was said and misread the signs.

"It's okay, Mommy," she cried, leaping off the bed to hug her. "Danno's gonna be okay, 'cause he's a fighter, just like Uncle Steve says...you'll see."

Steve had wanted, needed, Rachel to fully understand but he didn't want to hurt her. He could clearly see the love she still held for his partner. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder and pressed the other against the back of Grace's dark hair.

"It's true," he said, conviction reverberating in his tone. "What he did on that island, how he survived there, that proves it. He couldn't have done it if he really didn't want to live, if he didn't know deep down that he has plenty to live _for,_ to fight for. Danny's strong. He'll beat this too."

Rachel nodded silently and took in some long breaths to steady herself before attempting a tremulous smile of agreement. For their daughter she would try to believe it was true. When her eyes met Steve's, they showed deep regret but also thanks. She pressed Grace against herself, then steered her out, the pair walking slowly away down the corridor with their arms held protectively around each other.

Steve resumed his place and leaned over to take a firm grip on Danny's forearm.

"Come on Buddy," he whispered, stroking a thumb absently over his partner's still flushed skin. "Did you hear me bigging you up there? You can do this. There's people here who need you. Come on back to us, Danno. Please..."

Danny turned a corner that night.

His body felt sluggish, heavy, yet strangely hollow, as though his core had been scooped out. He was a husk, delicate and frayed, with no strength to open his eyes even though he could hear voices and feel the persistent presence of people around him.

He knew straight away where he was and was conscious enough to register it as a good sign. He'd survived. Part of him wanted to celebrate, wanted to whoop and punch the air, but it was a tiny part and the rest of him still couldn't quite catch up and resisted as though he was dragging a tonne weight through quicksand when he tried to open his eyes and show the world he was back.

Weakness and weariness was sucking every ounce of strength, squeezing every molecule, and he nearly gave up..._Next time, I'll do it next time..._

"Oh no, Danny, not again...Come on now, let's be having you..."

_Not yet. _

"I know you're in there, Buddy."

_Soon._

"Danno. Hey, Danno"

_Steve. Only Steve McGarrett would be so annoying._

"Enough of this...come on now..."

_Steve. Of course._

Danny's eyes opened and Steve's filled up.

"There you go."

Danny blinked slowly. Once. Twice. His eyelids felt like iron grilles that had to be forced up in a battle of sheer will over sheer exhaustion. The prize was to see Steve's face, lined, unshaven, darkly bruised by worry and tiredness, but smiling.

"Hey," he whispered.

_Hey..._Danny tried to form the word too, but failed.

"Ha! Don't strain yourself there, Danno." Steve sounded delighted. Everything was a triumph now.

"One step at a time, eh."

_Suits me..._He tried a smile too but couldn't be sure his face was co-operating. _Christ, it hurts...feel like..._

Danny's blurry, bloodshot eyes conveyed his feelings even at half mast and Steve could read them easily.

"I know Buddy, I know...but it's going to be okay now. The doctors say you're through the worst. You're going to be okay. It's all going to be fine now."

Danny felt the pressure of Steve's hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting. It stayed there as he withdrew his other from its sling and gripped around his wrist and Danny drew strength from the touch. Even as his partner's eyes drifted closed again, Steve saw the corners of his mouth had lifted slightly. It was a ghost of his normal smile but it was enough.

"You made it Danno. You made it."

**5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0 5-0**

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><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

The sand was cool beneath his feet as he flexed his toes and buried them in the darker damp layers below the surface. He leaned back in the lounger and stared out. The last time he'd been on a beach, it was with Sam. He swallowed hard on the bitterness of regret. He'd known her such a short time but her loss was something he was still having to come to terms with. He hadn't been well enough to attend the funeral and he hadn't felt strong enough to visit her grave since. _Soon_. It was on his to-do list, but it was a long list.

_Stay awake for more than two hours at a time; be able to walk more than twenty feet without feeling like it's a marathon; cut back on the pain killers; cut back on the antibiotics; cut back on the grumbling over the inability to do either; eat more; throw up less; stop worrying; get everyone else to stop worrying; get back to work; get back to normal._

A visit to Sam's grave was near the top..._next week maybe..._but it came only after his number one priority.

_**Count your blessings and let every one of them know how you feel.**_ It was written large and bold like a headline in Danny's head.

As Grace ran towards him, he grabbed his latest opportunity and opened his arms out wide. She flopped onto his chest and wrapped her wet arms tightly around her father's neck. Danny's still healing skin, pink and shiny with new scars, crusted with shrinking scabs in some places, was sensitive to any touch, but this was a good one..._This one is perfect..._ Her sloppy kiss pressed against his cheek and he returned it with a loud and deliberately slobbery one of his own, mouthing around her ear and blowing raspberries into the salty dampness of her hair.

"Eww!" She squealed but she didn't pull away, instead snuggling up against him, until his t-shirt was soaked with the wetness from her costume. Danny winced at the dull pain it caused in his side but he didn't move her off. He could live with that pain.

Rachel had been dropping Grace off every day to spend as much time as she could with him. As much as his recovery allowed anyway. His ex-wife was caring and tender with him, her eyes always holding a sadness that she tried to hide and he'd noticed her biting at her lip as though holding back on something. He recognised the signs but Danny hadn't yet been able to face the conversation he felt would have to come... _Add that to the list then..._Strangely, it didn't feel too important to him any more. He'd already had the conversation with himself and that was enough for now. He'd come up with his own answers.

A large towel dropped over them and Kono leaned in as if to tickle Grace too but took her chance to lift her away from Danny's lap and plonk her down, wrapped up like a parcel. Grace giggled and Danny smiled at Kono's insight.

Since his release from hospital eight days ago, his whole team had been hovering around him like concerned aides, quick to step in with encouragements and admonishments, delivering his medications and forcing him to rest. They supported his every move and lingered near whenever he wavered.

He really hadn't been good company. Eager though he had been to get away from doctors and bed baths and catheters, tests, drips and manipulation, it seemed endless rules had been laid down for his continued recovery and he still found himself the center of way to much attention. Steve McGarrett was the worst..._Or the best,_ Danny corrected himself.

He was only ever a grunt of pain away. Even in the night, when Danny couldn't hold back a moan if he shifted or tried to turn or to reach for a drink or a tablet, there he would be. Sometimes wordless, sometimes with quiet talk that dulled the echoes of those fears that still resounded and hovered in the dark. While chivvying and nagging over his treatments, he was also sensitive enough to allow his friend space to build back his reserves, to keep his pride..._ Who would have thought such a neanderthal animal could have such a feminine side... _Danny had mused over the man's extraordinary attentiveness in whatever short breaks of wakefulness he could manage between the many hours of sleep he still seemed to need.

He could barely remember the first few days after coming around and after that, the persistent symptoms left him sick and dizzy and hurting all over. It had been Steve's hand that closed over his as it clutched at the pump of pain relief, holding on silently until the warming effects beat back the worst of it. He'd accompanied him down corridors to never ending scans, waiting for hours to accompany him back to his room, where Danny could only lay limp, washed out and wretched.

Within the first week however, physiotherapists had been encouraging Danny to get on his feet. It was a painful, complicated and highly undignified process with various tubes hanging down uncomfortably from beneath his hospital robe. Steve was conscious that his friend may not want him around to witness it and offered to step outside but Danny had nervously shaken his head and instead, he stood back against the wall to watch, his own stiffly braced legs twitching in sympathy with Danny's jerky movements and huffs of effort.

Five steps were all Danny could manage before sweat beads were popping on his brow, he felt his knees begin to buckle and the horribly familiar nausea was building. Steve couldn't help himself and jumped forwards to support him and the therapist allowed it as she reached for a bowl to hold under Danny's chin while he retched. He was left gray and panting.

Steve held him up and carefully manhandled him back towards the bed where Danny slumped defeated and then looked up apologetically.

"We gotta stop doing this arm in arm stuff, people are going to talk," he said weakly.

"Nah, they know I prefer someone who can actually walk upright, doesn't have to pee through a tube, and won't barf every few steps," Steve responded, hitching the pillows back behind Danny's head.

"Ouch," Danny feigned a hurt look.

"What? I was joking. Too early?"

"A little..." Danny muttered, then his eyes grew wide and he doubled over retching loudly again. Steve spun round to grab for another basin from the bedside shelf, knocking over a tray with a plastic jug of water and glasses in the process. They crashed down, soaking his pant leg and rolling about his feet as he swung back to find Danny grinning mischievously up at him, and no longer looking at all as though he might throw up.

"What? I was joking too! You work alone now? I thought we were a double act."

Steve cursed him and the therapist beside them laughed. The following day, to the applause of his team mates, Danny managed ten more slow steps.

Kono and Chin each took their turns but it was Steve who had stayed for most of his time in the hospital, only leaving for gradually longer periods in the second week, once Danny was strong enough to insist with anything like his usual manner. It was as though they had to wean themselves off each other.

"Duty calls, Babe. Hawaii needs you. Besides, you stink and you look worse than I feel. For the sake of everyone here who has a working sense of smell, go home, go to work, go away. Please."

It was a wrench. The first time, Steve had been uncertain and hesitant, his eyes cast down like a little boy. He stood as though he was about to go but instead returned once more to the side of Danny's bed, fiddled absently with the crease of a sheet then sat down on the edge. They contemplated each other for a full minute until Danny eventually raised his eyebrows in frustration.

"You want me to call you a cab?"

"No, no it's just..."

Steve didn't know quite where to begin with what he needed to voice. He looked as serious as Danny had ever seen him. W_ell, maybe not as serious as when he has a gun in his hand, or a grenade,_ he observed, but he was showing the strain that had affected them all.

"Danny, it's been...This whole thing... when we couldn't get to you, and you hurt so bad...I was...I just want you to know..."

Danny raised up a hand. A catheter needle was stuck in the back and held in place with tape. The drip tube flapped as his wrist did.

"I do, Babe," he said. "Believe me, I do." He smiled and Steve could see the truth of understanding in his face, even as he rested his head back on the pillow. "And me too."

Another long moment of silence filled the room as their eyes held, their brows quirked, and the grins broadened to mirror each other, open and accepting and totally unembarrassed.

"Right, well, I'm glad we had that little chat," Steve smirked eventually, as he stood up once again, levering himself up with a deliberately hard push against Danny's knee.

"Yeah, your communication skills are improving. Coming on real well. Let's do this more often, y'know, really open the floodgates next time." Danny was waving both hands now. "Let it all out there...care, share..."

"...don't you dare."

"Nice," Danny congratulated him. "Always good to go with poetry when expressing your feelings, Steven."

Steve was at the doorway waving in mock dismissal now. "No thanks. I've got better places to be."

He left, but Danny was still smiling fondly in his direction when, after two seconds, he popped his head back sideways around the door frame. "See you later."

It was a promise he'd kept everyday of Danny's remaining hospital stay and hadn't let up once he was released into his partner's care at his home. Danny had to admit, it was nice but he was so fed up now of feeling so bad.

Even after more than three and a half weeks, Danny was still suffering the effects of his ordeal on the island. The infection was proving to be a stubborn bastard, and had settled in his respiratory tract and kidneys. The doctors wouldn't release him unless he kept an oxygen cylinder and mask nearby and allowed Malia and an agency nurse to keep their expert eye on him between check-ups. He ached and wheezed and barely had enough energy to properly voice his irritation, although, of course, he managed it. He was trying hard to present a healing front but as everyone who knew him could have predicted, Danny was an impatient patient.

Steve shook his head as he watched his friend shifting awkwardly to try to ease into the lounger and pushed a cushion into the small of his back. Danny looked up at him and nodded his thanks, accepting a bottle of iced water too. He sipped it and tried again to relax, lifting his legs up onto the wooden slats of the seat. Steve watched in case he was needed.

Danny had lost too much weight and muscle mass to his injuries and illness. His body was still rebelling against the medication. Drowsy and nauseous was his new normal and his movements were slow and tortuous at times. He did his best to hide it but, staying at Steve's since his discharge, that had been impossible and his friends worried over his rather stooped posture and shuffling steps. Their Danny was all about movement and energy and noise, this weakened version was wrong in so many ways. In the last few days, however, Steve had seen some improvements - he was staying awake longer, holding himself better, his energy levels were gradually rising. This day was all about moving on.

As Kono led Grace off in search of more shells for her collection, Steve settled himself onto the sand next to Danny, took a swig from his bottle of beer and leaned back on his elbows. They took in the view together.

Chin Ho Kelly was being given the guided tour of the little whitewashed beach house nearby. His latest, violently garish shirt reflected the brightness of the flowers that trailed up the side of the low building and around the wooden fence of the small yard which opened out onto the sand. Rosalie Hagino was happily basking in his appreciation, her warm laugh chuckling across the beach as he begged her to try to find him and Malia a property just as nice.

Grace and Kono were stooping at the water's edge, to examine their latest finds. Danny could hear their laughter too and guessed his daughter was once again cajoling Kono into telling tales. She never seemed to tire of hearing versions of her father's antics. His team knew he would rather not relive it all but believed he deserved to enjoy her hero worship, so they took great delight in finding new ways to distract her from the more gruesome and violent aspects of what had happened.

Grace giggled at the depiction of her Danno's mantrap as something nearer to Harry Potter's Whumping Willow, magically persuaded to lend him a hand. Her favorite aspect though was always the President's involvement and that needed no dramatic adaptation. The day Danny was released from the hospital, a hand written letter arrived from the Oval Office, praising the team's work, expressing pleasure at Danny's recovery and personally wishing him well. There was also a mention of commendations for all of the Five-0 members.

Kono had squealed almost as loudly as Grace when she'd seen it, sub-consciously running her fingers through her loose hair as she danced around the details of her persuasive techniques. Even her team mates hadn't heard the true story of that yet.

Grace had taken the letter in for Show And Tell. Danny wasn't strong enough to be there at the school with her, but later she told him all about how her friend Tommy, the same Tommy who had introduced the words 'death wish' to her all those weeks ago, had been green with envy.

Watching his girl as she splashed about, that all seemed a lifetime ago. He had a whole new perspective now..._Fighting for your life will do that, I guess, _Danny grinned to himself.

"What you thinking about?" Steve noticed his friend's look.

Danny turned his grin towards him. "Just about how lucky I am."

"Whoah!" Steve feigned wide eyed shock. "Really? Is that an appreciation for Hawaii I'm hearing, Danno? Can't be. Your fever back or something?" he laughed.

"Alright, alright, calm down, I'm just saying..." Danny smiled and nodded his head out to Grace and to the house and beach.

The waves lapped quietly here. The same sea that pounded so annoyingly outside Steve's home just a few miles away, slipped almost noiselessly up the sand in this sheltered place. Rosalie had consulted Danny's friends and taken his New Jersey city-boy sensitivities into account when she had trawled through all the many properties and contacts on her books. She'd pulled strings and done deals and, when she visited Danny, she had brought with her a tenancy agreement that had left him speechless.

Tucked away amongst expensive mansions and tall duplexes, this small beach-side bungalow belonged to an eccentric and reclusive millionaire, who never used it but refused to sell it, despite countless tempting offers from developers. On an island that did not have the sort of urban development that Danny had grown up in, the area adjacent was perhaps the nearest thing to it.

The property was rather incongruously placed between the bustle and noise of Downtown on one side and a small, narrow strip of private, untouched beach on the other. Steve had seen it boarded up for many years but, with the newspaper reports still fresh in islanders' minds, Rosalie had called in favors, contacted the owner and persuaded him to rent it to Danny. A three bed-roomed home, that Steve was already planning would soon become his stopping off point during the longer beach runs from his own, just a little way further along the coast.

"You want to walk?" Steve asked when he noticed Danny shifting again. He leaned over to take his elbow and helped him stand. They drifted slowly away from their shady spot towards the water, moving at Danny's careful pace with Steve at his side, not touching but just there.

"You heard the latest about Jeffrey Trewl?" Steve asked.

"Chin said you'd spoken to the Feds." Danny hadn't had the energy for the details of the results of the case until recently. Steve took it as another sign of definite improvement that he was showing renewed interest now.

"They're still not sure what to charge him with. Looks like they might even offer him a job, put his genius to their own use."

Danny huffed a laugh at that. "Well, he did kinda show them up. Sweet! Maybe they'll help him grow up a bit."

"The charities he siphoned money to are likely to be able to keep it but there are still a few individuals he donated to who haven't come forward. Jeffrey is apparently reluctant to help the Bureau with that."

They looked over at Rosalie Hagino as she showed Malia photos of her newly born grandson. She felt their gaze from a distance and looked up with a wide, warm smile. "Rosie's still waiting to hear what she should do with hers but I think she has her eyes on the North Shore Drop-In Center." They waved back at her.

The two men had reached the edge of the waterline. The gently tickling tips of occasional waves drifted up over their feet and a warm breeze flapped their shirts and hair. Steve had noticed that Danny seemed less concerned over his 'style' now, more often than not, forgoing the button downs and the gel. He didn't think it was only due to his convalescent lack of energy, or that he was off work, it seemed altogether deeper somehow.

Steve looked across at him. The longest blond strands were blowing sideways and the soft cotton of his washed out polo-shirt wrapped against his frame, his waistband hung low under hip bones that shouldn't show..._Still too thin,_ Steve worried. His cheekbones were sharper than he liked, the skin drawn tight and the flesh sunken under his blond stubble. But Danny's crinkling laughter lines were back and that was what really mattered. That was what they both needed.

Mother Nature can't simply order the brain to find and fix damage inflicted by fate and circumstance. Sometimes she must bribe it with pleasure and humor. And friendship. Steve and Danny channeled that and, after all they'd been through, not only in the past few weeks and months but since they met, they both knew just how much they relied upon it.

"Seen the Island Sun today?" Danny asked. Steve was surprised that he would want to look at that particular paper and shook his head, wondering where they were going now.

"They've got a new writer on the horoscopes. Some guy who used to do news, I believe. Anyway, I read yours, Babe. You know, the one that defines you as stubborn, aggressive and with a deep psychological paranoia over ever being wrong." He turned to Steve with a wonderfully familiar grin. "Says after a period of turmoil, your current state of boredom and monotony is set to continue..."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, but it says you should definitely not go seeking replacements for anyone missing from your life. Oh, and it says you shouldn't expect things to be brightening up for you for at least another month or so..."

"Uh-huh, is that right?" Steve grinned back. "So, Danno how long was it before the Doc said he'd even consider letting you get back to work? Four more weeks was it?" Danny shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his canvas shorts and laughed.

"Okay, it is kinda quiet in the office without you?" Steve admitted. "But we can live with it. So, tell me, what did _yours_ say?"

"Oh, mine? Mine said I should be prepared for a period of regression, expect to return to the days of my childhood, give up any attempt to be a grown up, and get ready to eat my body weight in baked goods. Which I have to say I will enjoy hugely, after putting up with your hospitality for the past week."

Danny's parents were due to fly in the next day. Now that he had a decent place to live, they could not be dissuaded from coming to take over his care and continued recuperation, so that Steve could return to Five-0 full time without distractions.

"You know, I'm really looking forward to meeting your folks."

"Oh, I'll just bet you are." Danny noted wryly. He was already bracing himself for the merciless teasing that would undoubtedly follow what were bound to be some highly embarrassing stories about his past. "Well, I'll be reminding you of that when you've listened to my mother telling way too many details of my life for hour, after hour, after hour..."

"She where you get your talkative gene from then?"

"My what? My talkative gene?" Danny's hands flew up and spoke of his indignation as loudly as his voice.

"Well, yeah. You're talkative Danno. And you're loud too...What, nobody told you that before? Wait, I believe _I've_ told you that before. Couple of hundred times at least..."

"Ha! You think _I'm_ loud, just wait til my Mom and Pop start up..."

"Actually, I cannot wait," Steve laughed honestly. He patted Danny's shoulder and left his hand there, relishing the fact that they were here, together.

Danny mirrored the move and slung an arm up and over Steve's shoulder, giving it a slap then moving it up to grip the back of his neck and drawing their heads close in a brotherly bump.

"Well, I figure it's about time I introduce my family to ...my family." He let the truth of the words hang there and sink in before moving forwards, pushing Steve along and heading towards the rest of the team. "Just don't say I didn't warn you, okay."

There had been a storm the night before but the day was calm and settled now. Danny felt his partner beside him, their shoulders touching as they splashed through the shallows and breathed in the clean air. He felt like he'd come through a storm himself. All the deadwood had been swept away, cut down to the quick. All that was left was the necessary. The living.

"Look at that." Steve nodded to where Grace and Kono had been joined by Chin and Malia. They were all carefully placing their shells on the ground near the wooden steps of the beach house. The colorful pattern was well above the tide line, the words and sentiment would stay safe and untouched in the sand.

'Welcome Home.'

The group closed in around them and Danny smiled. His body may well have more healing to do but, for the first time in what seemed like a long time, his head and his heart were feeling just fine.

***End***

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><p><strong>AN: **_Well, we're done! __Thank you all so much for reading and especially to those who have been leaving reviews and comments. I've loved 'chatting' with you all, your wonderful support has really meant a lot._

_For the grammar and punctuation purists out there, I feel I really should apologize for my ridiculous overuse of ellipses and italics which, I imagine, must certainly irritate some. I know I use them incorrectly but they're both so effective for speech, thoughts, breaths and hurt of all sorts, that I just I can't help myself ...I'm addicted...See!...Help!  
><em><br>__

_Otherwise, I simply hope you've enjoyed reading the story as much as I did writing it. Feel free to let me know. :)_


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